


Dance the Ghost With Me

by Buntheridon



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: All that stuff you know, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coincidences, Did I mention Sexual Content?, Drinking, Erotic Massage, F/F, F/M, Facing Past Demons, Fingering, Fluff, Goth Rock, Light Bondage, Lots of sexual content, Lots of side pairings, Maiev is a hunter, Masturbation, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, Mutual Attraction, No condoms that is, Older Woman/Younger Man, Past Abusive Relationship Mentioned, Phone Sex, Romance, Secret Crush, Sexual Content, Skinny Dipping, They're Clean Tho, comeback tour, everyone is a human, menstruation talk, mentioned anorexia, mentioned drug use, mentioned overdose, music talk, sex during menstruation, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2019-10-24 23:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 71,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17713802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: A modern AU set on Earth (with a dash of Azeroth). With this I'm taking part in our Age Gap Edition to celebrate older women with younger men :DAnduin goes to a concert. Sylvanas sings in a band. Contains other pairings as well as all sorts of shenanigans with multiple characters. Illidan is basically Peter Steele xD





	1. Two Worlds and in Between

 

“You’ve been in the sun, I see.”

“Hello, uncle Baine.” The boy smiles warmly to the older gentleman.

 _“Please,_ don’t call me uncle, it makes me feel so old.”

The pair hug and sit down in Baine’s backyard terrace. Drinking iced tea in comfortable silence they watch how the late afternoon sun colors the trees golden like the visitor’s long hair. He has just come back from India, having gone there on a whim to learn yoga and explore the world. The boy  - or a young man, really, having just turned 19 some months ago - looks serene, like he had finally found some inner peace and meaning to his life after the terrible tragedy of losing his father so unexpectedly.

“Are you free tonight, Anduin?”

“Yes I am, why?” He glances at his uncle, who is more like an older friend to him than a relative. Throughout his childhood Baine was always trying to teach him which bands were worth listening to or how to play a guitar - he hadn’t learned, but it had been fun all the same.

“There’s this _rare_ event and I would like you to accompany me.”

“Of course, what is it? The Doors are touring again?” His playful smirk makes the man laugh.

“No, even better. Get this: _Sylvanas and the Banshees_ are making a special comeback tour that only visits five cities. They start the tour here, in their hometown, tonight at Lordaeron’s main stage.” His voice trembles with nostalgia and excitement.

“You’re kidding! That’s… well, _your_ dream come true.”

“I know they aren’t your favorite, but I would like you to see them live. This will probably be the only time they do this.”

“You old goth. Of course I’ll come with you. But I won’t put any eyeliner on, mind you.”

“With that hair of yours they’d mistake you for a Swedish prog metal fan in any case. How was the trip? Did you meet any girls? Of course you did, you pretty-faced charmer.” He grins and his belly wobbles in silent laughter. The young man blushes slightly.

 _“Baine._ I told you I went there to find… peace. The yoga helped a lot and there were meditation workshops as well. I just started studying massage therapy here in town. One of the teachers in Goa recommended this school.”

“Oh. That sounds… relaxing.”

“It is. For the recipient as well as for me. I like doing good, even in such small ways. Sometimes it feels like I can cure the person spiritually as well as physically when I concentrate on them wholly. It’s really… rewarding.”

“Oh, you’ve always been such an idealist. I wonder if you will ever reach the perfected cynicism I have.”

The young man only smiles at that. He loves his uncle dearly and is especially grateful for his friendship now… But some of the music he listens to is just plain depressing. He recalls there being a certain allure in Sylvanas’ voice and the band was OK, but his recent change towards a more spiritual lifestyle has made him forget genres like that. On his trip he only listened to meditation music.

_Well, every experience will teach me something new, eh?_

 

****

 

The backstage is cleaner than she remembers them being 20 years ago. There are fruit and sparkling water, not booze, left on the side table. The club owner, a young lady, had herself shown them in, babbling happily about how they were her mother’s all-time favorite and how happy she was to have them there. Sylvanas grins at that, not sure whether to laugh or to bite someone.

It’s not bad though. She’s feeling strong, having been sober and clean for over ten years now. It’s never really over, the constant fight with oneself and the dark urges that still seize her from time to time. Only her own decision to finally stop killing herself slowly - and the decision to stay on that track every day since then - saved her. She had decided, kept at it and succeeded, all of it without becoming a cliché: she didn’t go to a posh clinic and she definitely didn’t choose religion instead of the needle. One day she just got tired of the ugliness of it all and chose _herself_.

Breaking up the band had been imperative to her survival back then.

The band isn’t the same as in the old days. The drummer, Areiel, had died in a drunken accident during their third album tour. They had released one more studio album and some singles, but never toured since. Lyana is in such a bad shape she couldn’t start performing again. Kalira and Cyndia are with her, and the two new girls are alright. A bit too chipper for her tastes, but they play well.

Immersed in thought she looks at herself in the mirror. Her skin is pale, like it’s always been. She’s not as skeleton-like as she was when she still used, but she’s very slender by nature, like some ethereal elf from a fairy tale. The healthy eating has made her look more _alive_ , although some days she still loathes food. The dark skin under her eyes and the hair-thin lines in their corners are visible only if one looked very closely. No-one would notice them on the stage, as her trademark look, the blood-red contact lenses, thick messy eyeliner and plum shade lipstick will draw the attention away from anything else on her face.

_One of these days I should stop bleaching my hair. It’s not healthy._

The others come in, the new rhythm guitarist dragging her instrument and bags.

“Don’t tell me there are no roadies anymore.”

“I’m not gonna let _anyone_ touch my axe”, Maiev snarls.

“Ah. Of course.” Sylvanas’ only instrument is within her. She starts smearing the eyeliner so it looks like she’s cried it on her cheeks. She wants to go in with maximum dramatics.

Delaryn, the new drummer, is still a bit timid around their leader. Sylvanas tries to flash her a smile, but truthfully she doesn’t feel like smiling so it probably comes across as taunting instead of friendly.

 

****

 

Anduin feels like a teenager in an awkward religious festival. Lordaeron is packed full and almost everyone in the crowd is of Baine’s generation. They all look happy to see all the other strangers but then again they _are_ drunk already. People shake hands and ask around who saw the band where and when last time. _So much for goths being morose and antisocial._

He’s the only one in a yellow t-shirt.

When the lights are dimmed he wishes the gig at least were short. The band lets the audience stomp their feet enthusiastically for five minutes before appearing slowly, one at a time, to their places behind the mics, the keyboard and the drums. The singer, Sylvanas, is the last to arrive. Her lithe figure makes Anduin want to take her out - _to eat._

When the first guitar chord hits their ears the crowd goes moo. But it’s not that what wakes Anduin from his musings.

Her voice is amazing.

He’s heard all the records - Baine took care of that when he was a kid - but what didn’t come across from the CDs is this alluring presence the singer possesses. And her voice - it’s so much more expressive live. It’s deeper than most female singers have, strong and yet only a whining lament at times, or a raspy whisper. It makes the hair on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end. Baine yells something among the noise and he just nods, eyes on her. She’s gorgeous in her ghostly dark way, full breasts squeezed in a tight black top that shows just a bit of cleavage, old tattoos covering her arms, black jeans hugging the curve of her hips. She sways while singing, leaning on the mic stand.

Slowly, like woven under a spell, Anduin also starts swaying to the music. The smoke machine pumps the room foggy and the lights switch between purple, red and blue. He feels the purple cloud embracing him like Sylvanas’ voice does. It’s almost like meditation but more… physical.

At the start of a very eerie and slow song Baine drags him closer to the stage. They manage to elbow themselves in front of it to the third row - if you could call them rows. She sings in a lamenting, dragging voice, words telling about an abusive yet addictive relationship and it’s unclear to Anduin whether she’s telling about a person or a substance. It makes him want to hold her, to tell her she’s worthy of painless, caring love.

Her eyes catch his and stay there for a moment. A chill runs down the young man’s spine.

 

_I try to hide but it’s no use_

_Don’t ever want this to end_

_And it will end me_

 

He wants to hide as well, her red eyes seem to penetrate his soul. For ten excruciating seconds it feels like there’s only the two of them in the room. Then she averts her gaze, almost as if it was too much for her to see the empathy in his blue eyes.

When the gig ends, after an encore of only one song, it comes too fast for him. The Banshees don’t bow nor throw drumsticks, they just walk away like in a funeral procession. The audience yells and claps and stomps in ecstasy. Like coming down from a high or a dream Anduin blinks and realizes he has an erection. His tight jeans aren’t very forgiving. _I need to stay in the crowd until it calms down._

“Awesome, wasn’t it?!”

“Yes, they are even better live.”

“I told you, boy! This was _legendary!”_ Baine is drunk and happy as a cow on a field. “I met some old friends I haven’t seen in a decade, come, I’ll introduce you.”

“I think… I need to go to the loo. I’ll catch you a bit later?”

“Sure thing.” His uncle slaps him on the shoulder and saunters off into the crowd.

 

****

 

The Banshees are having the time of their lives. The younger members laugh and revel in their adrenaline high and the old ones are quietly delighted that the comeback wasn’t a flop. Even Sylvanas smiles, tidying her makeup to a more presentable state (still very dramatic).

“Damn, girls! That was _epic!_ I thought the floor would give in for their stomping!” Maiev opens a bottle of sparkling wine with a loud pop. _Well, that’s my cue to leave,_ their leader thinks and gets up.

“I must say, I wasn’t sure about this until I saw how packed the club was. I’m so hyped right now I can’t sit still. Are you alright, darling?” Kalira puts her hand on her shoulder, pulling her into a soft hug.

“Yeah, just… I think I’ll call a cab. I’m _beat.”_ She glances meaningfully towards the drinking newbies.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“What?” Delaryn asks, giggling, then realizes they look at the bottle in her hand.

“It’s alright, you have fun now, you’ve earned it. I was going to leave soon anyway. The gig was awesome, good job everyone.”

”It was all because of you, really. You were… phenomenal.”

Sylvanas smiles at her flushed drummer. _Still so untainted. How cute._

She puts on her dark hooded jacket, pulls the hood on and finds her mobile from the pocket. The taxi promises to arrive in 20 minutes, there being a long queue during weekends. She leaves the backstage and exits undisturbed through a backdoor. Deciding to wait in an isolated alleyway she leans to the brick wall of the club and finds a cigarette. She has quit most of her vices, but sometimes, just sometimes she allows herself a smoke.

_“You shouldn’t damage yourself with those, you know.”_

She lifts her head, shifting her shielding hood a little to see who spoke.

It’s the _sappy boy_ with the yellow t-shirt. Sylvanas feels a long forgotten burn inside her. During one of her most personal songs this youth, who definitely wasn’t around when the band toured last time, had the guts to look like he pitied her. Well, OK, maybe not _pitied_ exactly, but he did resemble those Buddha preachers who wanted to save everyone with the _power of love_. Normally she would sneer at him, but the thing was... the boy is damn gorgeous. Young and lean and muscly in the right way, like he climbed trees or rowed boats for fun. His beautiful, almost innocent face is even now full of empathy. But there is _more_ in his eyes and that makes her decide on a daring course. She pushes her hood back and looks the boy in the eye challengingly.

“What makes you think I’m not already damaged beyond repair?”

The boy looks nervous but some curiosity or other force is driving him. “I don’t think anyone is.”

“Of course you don’t”, she mumbles and takes a long drag on the cigarette. She keeps her eyes on him, studying his features and expressions. He seems sincere and doesn’t give off any crazy fan vibes. _Yes, definitely one of those idealistic types._

“Can I… ask you something? About the… song.” She knows which song he means.

“You can, but I might not answer.”

“Was it about a real person?”

“Yes. Everyone knows about that. Or at least everyone old enough.” She tilts her head playfully and raises an eyebrow, looking at him with a taunt and a flirt. Her eyes catch the bulge in the front of his pants and she has to close her eyes, biting back a gasp. Her core throbs. _Damn. It’s been far too long since I had anyone. But he’s half my age, I would corrupt him. I should stop this now._

And yet… seeing him blush under her scrutiny the temptation is too great. “His name was Arthas. He’s dead now.”

“Oh. I’m… sorry.”

“About his death? Don’t be. I wish the asshole had suffered more while dying.” Arthas had overdosed on heroin soon after their fourth break-up. She had almost gone the same way some weeks earlier. The Death Knights never performed again.

The young man looks worried and she realizes what her words might sound like to someone who doesn’t know the story.

“Overdose. His own fault.” Hearing that, he relaxes his shoulders and takes a slow step closer to her. She drops the cigarette butt and stomps it under her boot. Army boots, rain or shine.

“Why are you here? You don’t seem the usual type.”

“My… friend asked me. I did enjoy the concert very much.”

She takes another glance at his groin and then back at his face. _Handsome, well-endowed and kindhearted. How could I resist?_ Her voice drops half an octave to a purr that only enhances his condition. “Did you? I’m _pleased_ to hear that.” She remembers the taxi and checks the time from her phone. It’s probably waiting for her already.

 _She’s bored of me,_ Anduin assumes, but the thought of her leaving now makes him restless - he would like to be in her company a little bit longer. His sudden need makes him daring.

“Would you… um… Could I buy you a coffee or something?” He winces inwardly at the lameness of his words. She’s probably heard millions of awful pick-up lines by now, he doesn’t want to be added to the list. But he didn’t have time to think and he’s nervous as hell.

“I don’t drink coffee anymore.”

Her flat monotone tells him to leave it be, and the disappointment is obvious on his face.

_Oh, to hell with it._

“I have a taxi waiting.” One last moment of hesitation, then she gives in, flashing an inviting smile. “The hotel bar makes excellent green tea.”

Sylvanas pulls the hood on deep, covering her face with it, and walks out of the alleyway towards the entrance. Her heart beats fast, making her breathe deep. She hopes the youth follows, fears he does not, but she won’t turn and check. She crosses the street to avoid the club entrance, the warm summer night allowing the fans to continue the party in front of it. It wouldn’t be good if she were recognized.

Stepping into the backseat of the cab, not closing the door behind her she tells the hotel name to the driver and settles next to the window. The door slams shut and she feels _him_ sit beside her, not too close. She smiles widely in the cover of her hood, a feeling of mirth, expectation, arousal bubbling inside her.

When the car takes off she turns her face towards the young man. Their eyes meet and they both acknowledge it, this nearly choking, palpable excitement between them. She inhales deep, doesn’t let it show. The boy is blushing and looks nervous, but he has this aura of confidence about him, his gaze doesn’t waver and he smiles at her.

 _Young, but not a kid anymore,_ she sighs, relieved.

She still has the option of a simple - if frustrating - chat over a teacup. Yet she knows where they are headed. And it makes her feel more alive than in years.

 

 

 


	2. And Her Hallway Moves Like the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where tea serves as a plot device - waiiit a minute, is this a déjà vu?

 

Anduin has never felt such a rush of emotions in his life. His heart is pounding against his ribs, he has to keep his hands on the cab seat lest Sylvanas of the Banshees sees him tremble. His erection is nearly painful but he doesn’t care anymore that she can see it through his pants. Or yes, he does care, but he does not _mind_. She made it clear that she wasn’t offended by it - on the contrary, she seemed to like what she saw. The knowledge that this fascinating woman finds him attractive makes him smile so hard his cheeks hurt. He tries to hide it by looking out the window.

He had snuck out of the club to calm down from the effect her stage performance had on his body… And then he found her there in the backyard. What are the odds?

The little experience he has had with girls might not be enough in this situation and he’s a nervous wreck - if a euphoric one. After his father’s death he spent a year in such a state of grief he wouldn’t meet anyone except some of his most insistent relatives. And then in India he tried to concentrate on the spiritual, and somehow avoided any situations for intimacy, or they avoided him. He has kissed girls several times, steamily even, but he has always been guided by his gentlemanly upbringing and friendliness rather than selfish needs or lust. Until now, that is. In hindsight some initiative would have taken him further with the girls but then again they all had seemed perfectly happy just kissing endlessly. He hadn’t wanted to impose himself.

Thinking of kissing Sylvanas sends a jolt through his body. He steals glimpses of her during the short taxi ride. She seems to be looking out the window as well.

The vehicle stops and she pays the fare. It’s a three star hotel, not too luxurious or obvious for a famous band singer, which is why she chose it. She prefers her privacy over attention whenever it’s possible.

Sylvanas thinks for a second whether to actually head towards the hotel café but a glance at her companion makes her decide against it. The searing want is unquestionable in his eyes, and there’s also hesitation and that cursed empathy - and the cocktail is too irresistible for her. Even if he were a bit inexperienced he would become a wonderful lover with that mindset.

She’s not mistaken. Even in his agitation Anduin has decided, if they end up touching each other, to let her know all that he felt listening to her history in the songs. He wants to _heal_ her, cherish her, make her feel loved even if it’s only for this one night. She isn’t aware of it but the young man is able to see how fragile she is, how her cool exterior tries to hide the pain.

In the elevator they both lean on the opposite walls, watching the other.

“I’m Anduin.”

“Hello, Anduin. You know my name.”

“Yes.” He sounds breathless and she loves it. The thrill of the power she has over him is rivalled only by her desire.

Anduin can see himself in the opposite mirror and it makes him more nervous. There are bright red spots on his cheeks. _Won’t she think me childish?_ At the same time Sylvanas watches her own reflection and wonders for a fleeting moment what this beautiful, fresh youngster was doing with a ruined person like her.

When their eyes meet again their mutual attraction makes them forget those insecurities. The lift door opens with a _ding_ and he follows her lead. The sound of the hotel room door clicking shut behind them puts them both on edge. _This is real now._ Her desire burns and throbs almost as potently as his, yet they can’t just lunge at each other. Sylvanas breathes deep, this time letting him hear it.

_Could she be nervous as well? Is that possible?_

She clears her dry throat. “So. Tea?”

“Um, yes, why not.” He wanders behind her, surveying the room to distract himself from staring at the sway of her hips. The place is cozy, not at all glamorous or pompous. Anduin sees her rummaging through the kitchenette cupboards in a random manner and realizes she really is nervous too. _But of course, how could she be certain of any person’s feelings or intentions when she has probably met a heckload of crazy fans._ He moves closer to her, but making sure she hears him approach. She halts her search and leans on the counter, sighing.

Anduin stands behind her, very close, not yet touching. Sylvanas looks over her shoulder and flashes a grin.

“I don’t think there’s tea in here.”

He disciplines his voice to its normal softness. “It’s all right.” He just stands there, breathing deep, thinking furiously what to do next. She leans back, hovers almost against him, yet not. She drinks in the tension between them, her knuckles white from gripping the edge of the counter. His scent is wonderful, no perfumes, just a whiff of soap and the rest is pure young man. _Yes._ Relaxing her grip she leans in the last inch and her upper back touches his chest. She’s half a head shorter than him. The boy hesitates, then places his hands on her shoulders. They feel warm, almost hot against her.

Softly he grips her shoulder muscles, hands knowing what to do while his brain is numb. Sylvanas lets out a whine that hits the young man straight into the loins. He closes his eyes, massaging her slowly. She hadn’t realized her muscles were so tense.

“That feels _heavenly”,_ she purrs.

That’s all the encouragement he needs - this is what he knows well from his studies. His strong fingers move to the back of her neck, and the bare skin contact makes them both sigh. Everything feels electrified, like it was imperative to avoid rapid movements, like slow motion in a dream. His thumbs slide up and down the sides of her spine in her neck, his other fingers pushing against the back of her skull among the long blonde hair. She moans lightly, leaning against his fingers, becoming jelly in his hands. Her nipples stand erect, her underpants are soaked. It’s taking all her willpower not to jump his bones right now - for some reason, even when she craves it utterly, she wants to go about this slowly and cautiously.

So as not to frighten either of them.

 

****

 

“I wanted you to meet my boy Anduin, old pal.” _Where the bloody hell has he gone?_ _He’s not answering._

“I din know you had a kid, Baine.”

“I told you, it’s Varian’s son, not mine. But we go way back, and…you do know he’s gone now, don’t you?” Another call ends up in the default answering service. He hangs up.

“Yeah, I heard… damn shame. You sure you don have any on you?”

“Hummel, don’t you remember? I don’t even smoke, never did any stuff back then. Beer is my only vice.” He burps, tired, first signs of tomorrow’s hangover weighing on his eyes. He is slowly getting annoyed by his companion, he hadn’t realized the skeleton-thin acquaintance from his youth is still every bit the addict he was a decade ago. Now he even seems to have some kind of trouble with his memory. Having to repeat the same things over and over again is starting to get on Baine’s otherwise bull-strong nerves. How do the unhealthiest ones go on surviving year after year goes beyond his comprehension. Hummel had been given the nickname _Apothecary_ because of his shady side business.

“Oh, yeah. You big saint, you.”

“Pfff.”

Baine worries a moment, but then scolds himself for being overprotective - the _boy_ isn’t a child anymore. He probably went home, seeming so out of place among the _connoisseurs_ of this particular genre. He sure looked like he appreciated the concert though - or maybe just the singer who’s still incredibly stunning in her 40’s. The man chuckles to himself. _Good old Sylvanas._

“Come on, buddy, let’s call a cab. My treat.”

 

****

 

Anduin’s hands slide down the slender, tattooed arms of good old Sylvanas and massage the muscles with a firm grip. The band’s logo, a howling banshee with wild hair is inked on her left biceps. She leans her back further against him and her ass bumps on his jeans-clad erection. He bites back a moan but she hears it. Grinning with overwhelming glee she sways against it, like she did on stage. _This could still be read as accidental,_ she lies to herself. The boy resumes his movements, sliding his palms over her shoulder blades in the narrow space between their upper bodies. When he tentatively grips her waist she’s almost _gone_. It’s so terrifyingly close to being purely sexual. They could still pretend it’s something less intimate, as if he’s merely massaging her aches away in a friendly manner. Sylvanas fears and yearns for the crossing of that threshold - not yet, not yet. She can feel her fast heartbeat on her swollen clitoris when she presses against the edge of the counter.

Kneading the flesh of her narrow waist makes Anduin almost lose it. He has this delicate being in his grip - literally - the responsibility and implications of the imminent future make him tremble. And her moving against him isn’t helping. He drops his head to rest on the back of hers, breathes deeply. He doesn’t want to hurt her or be rude but their position against the kitchen counter is nothing less than obscenely erotic.

He could push against her.

He dares not. But the thought is there _._

He moves his healer’s hands lower, to her hips, to the upper part of her buttocks. In the haze he remembers too late that there’s a certain erogenous zone around the tailbone. He was supposed to touch soothingly but--- His thumbs circle around it through her black jeans, push up towards her spine.

Sylvanas didn’t know she had a sensitive spot there. The moan that escapes without her consent is uninhibited and raw, almost a sob, almost like in her song. Her back arches.

_God, I can’t ---_

She turns around, breathless, flushed. She meets the hunger in his eyes and that alone almost tips her over. His lips are parted, his cheeks deep red, the blue in his eyes almost swallowed by the black of the pupils. _What is this? This boy, he’s a treasure._ Not hesitating anymore Anduin slides his hands on her neck, under her ears, to the back of her skull through her hair and pulls her into a kiss. The touch of their lips makes them both whine in their throats. Soft, wet lips open and their tongues meet. This, also this he knows well. He sometimes thought maybe girls climaxed on kisses alone, and right this moment Sylvanas feels like she just could. The boy seemed inexperienced by his behaviour earlier but _hot_ _damn_ is he a good kisser. She sucks in his lower lip and pulls him close, pulls him flush against her. _It’s not enough._ She flips their positions, pushes him against the counter edge and _grinds_ herself on his clothed boner until - _until_ -

The agony is gone; every cell in her body sings release. She deepens the kiss and hums as the orgasm ripples over her like soothing summer rain. Anduin yelps, instinctively trying to push her hips away as he almost comes in his pants. Sylvanas realizes this and pulls him with her towards the couch.

“Don’t worry, we have time.” Her voice is low and hoarse.

Pushing the boy to lie on his back she climbs astride his thighs and opens the fly of his jeans. Anduin puts a hand over hers.

”Wait.”

_Oh, yes. I was supposed to go slow. Oops._

”Sorry. I was…” She doesn’t know what to say. Old insecurities rising she tries to hold back the shadow of shame. _Damn you, Arthas, leave me be!_

”No, it’s… not that. I just… I haven’t…” He looks at her imploringly, so he wouldn’t have to say it.

 _No. Really?_ Well, she had suspected it.

”It’s all right. I haven’t either… in a decade.” She hasn’t been able to trust anyone to come so near - not that she didn’t attempt it a few times after Arthas, but ending in a panic attack and almost injuring her eager partners isn’t her idea of a good time, so she eventually stopped trying.

What makes this boy different in that regard? Maybe his age and his purity, it somehow intuitively makes her trust that he doesn’t yet possess the dark cynicism needed for scheming or manipulating the other. Maybe it’s the adrenaline and her elevated post-gig state. And she feels she has the mental upper hand, being so much more experienced - and a famous person. In a way she knows she could crush him if she so wished.

Sylvanas looks at his face, really examines it. Yes, her twisted mind _could_ see a way for him to be a very cunning player, a terribly good actor, making her believe in his innocence and then… what? She’s the one pushing them towards having sex. There’s no money involved in this. A scoop? A bet?

No. He doesn’t look like that at all. He probably isn’t. But just in case he turns out to be a fraud, she can say _”I knew it”._

”We don’t need to hurry. Sorry about that.”

Their hands are still touching over his half open jeans. Anduin gently entwines their fingers and focuses his sincere blue eyes on her. She’s unreal, too much like a fantasy come true, which is why he’s afraid she’s still wearing her stage mask - the mental one, he doesn’t mind the makeup - and not letting her real self show. He wants to convey all this but he’s lost for words.

”I didn’t mind. I just… I want _you_ to enjoy this and…”

She finds herself blinking back tears. _This won’t do at all._

”Same here, beautiful boy. I _want_ to do this. May I?” Her hands return to undressing him, sliding over his hard bulge. He gasps.

”Yes, yes…”

He lifts his rear so she can pull off his tight jeans. They struggle them off with a joined force and share a breathless chuckle. She slides her hands over his strong thighs, covered in soft golden hair, the touch resembling a massage. He follows the movement of her hands, she watches his face. His expectation, want and this tension are like a drug to her, given in small doses. She wants to see more, wants to feel more, wants to see him unravel and erupt and _howl_ under the magic of her touch.

 

****

 

“So cool to end the tour in _Sethekk Fest_. The _Hall_ is the most legendary club in Shattrath. We’ve played there a few times. Not sure how it’ll go, tho, as their homeboys’ opening act…”

“Pfff! They should play before us! The Illidari are a bunch of posers if you ask me. I mean, makes me think the guy doesn’t have _any_ charisma of his own if he has to use those ridiculous props!”

“Maiev. Illidan is _the hotness_ and the horns just accentuate that _._ Have you seen them live?” Cyndia’s small smile only infuriates the drunken guitar player further. _Old lady, you ain’t got nothin’ on me._

 _“No._ And I refuse to look at any videos either, so don’t go fiddling with YouTube. They’re the same as black metallists and other theatrical idiots with masks.”

“Methinks you protest too much.” Cyndia leans on the sofa at their comfortable backstage and nevertheless starts watching a video on her phone, loud enough for the room to hear it’s the mentioned band. Delaryn runs in, breathless.

“Girls, I swear I just saw Syl leave with a _groupie.”_

“Hah! Good for her!” Maiev takes an angry swig of her bottle. Kalira and Cyndia exchange a solemn look. Their leader and friend hasn’t had any action in years and had made it clear she didn’t intend to pursue any. They understood it perfectly, that fucker had messed her head profoundly. This change was a surprise.

“Are you sure?”

“What? Yeah. You saw that cute blond boy at the gig, front of the stage? Couldn’t have missed him, the only one with bright colors on, lol!” The older band members both roll their eyes and share a chuckle.

“You _really_ use acronyms as words. Oh lord.”

“I saw that kid. Kinda _young_ though, wasn’t he…?”

“Ooh, is that the Illidari? Lemme see!” Delaryn jumps next to Cyndia who makes room for her on the couch. Maiev groans.

“Oh shut up, Maiev! You just hate them because Sira joined them.” The other Banshees stare at their sulking guitarist and go _ooooooo._

“I seeee, so there _was_ a reason.”

“Shut up! I hated them even before that. And he’s a _betrayer_ anyways.”

“What, how come?” Kalira raises an eyebrow, amused. “Does he wear colorful clothes too?”

“That’s what they call him.” She shrugs and turns her back.

“I’ll google it”, chirps Delaryn and fishes her smartphone from her back pocket.

 _“...was in a band with his multi-instrumentalist brother Malfurion and singer-songwriter Tyrande Whisperwind…_ bla bla bla _… animosity because of a love triangle that ended up in Illidan leaving the newlyweds to form his own band…_ da da da _… allegedly call him The Betrayer because of their differences in musical tastes. Another popular theory is that Illidan had an affair with a third party while in a short relationship with Tyrande…_ bla bla _… has written a song about the conflict._ Ha! I know that one, it’s hot!”

Maiev doesn’t turn around. They will _not_ see her blush.

 

****

 

Arthas never let her lead. She could do or suggest most things but ultimately it was always his decision. And Sylvanas had loved it, loved being handled and commanded and _taken_ , but the cursed narcissistic arsehole needed to extend his obsessive control from the bedroom to every part of her existence.

It was him that had introduced God Smack into her life. She successfully let him believe her later songs were purely about their shared favourite pastime substance. If he suspected she was singing about him he probably just loved the attention and didn’t care he was depicted as vicious.

It’s truly intoxicating to have control over someone. Sylvanas makes a mental note not to betray the young man’s trust. She marvels at Anduin’s member, squeezes it through his blue boxers. It throbs delightfully in her grip. Glancing at him she slips her lithe fingers under the waistband. The thick cock bounces on his taut abdomen when it’s released from the clothes. She gets up, wriggles out of her jeans and along come her soaked strings off. He still has his infamous yellow shirt on and she doesn’t bother undressing her top either. Anduin’s gaze stays on her, his long, pale eyelashes fluttering. Her carpet does not match the drapes but no-one in the room pays that any mind. He reaches his hand towards her but she gently pushes him back on the pillow.

“Let me.”

”But what about—”

”Don’t worry. I won’t get pregnant. You _must_ be clean. I know I am.” It’s a miracle she is, given the amount of needles she’s shared over the years. But the test results came out as a relief and nothing’s pierced her since.

She straddles his hips and slowly starts sliding herself over the length of his shaft, not mounting him yet. She’s slick and swollen and the contact feels fantastic for both of them. Especially dragging herself back down makes her whine, the swell of his cock nudging her nub just _perfectly._ When she rises and reaches to guide him inside her the young man audibly draws in breath. Sylvanas keeps her eyes on his beautiful, lustful face when he feels the tight, warm hug of another flesh slide around his girth for the first time. Anduin closes his eyes and groans through his teeth.

Her abstinence for the last decade or so in addition to this rare and unexpected connection with the boy makes the penetration fill her soul as well as her flesh. It’s almost better than an orgasm, or like an endless series of small consecutive climaxes. His size stretches her unaccustomed walls nearing pain but her core throbs delightfully at every new entering inch and it soon dissolves into pleasure. Anduin moans and tries to restrain himself. His palms fall on her thighs.

“Go on”, she whispers, slowly starting to ride him. “Don’t hold back.”

“Are you - _oh, god - “_

“I’m not leaving anytime soon. Are you?” She leans over him, brushing her lips over his lips, his cheek, to his ear.

“If you stay, I will climax many more times with you... _Anduin."_

The young man moans in that telltale manner of someone very close to the brink. She speeds up the movement of her hips, does it the way she knows most men cannot resist, fast, deep, rubbing herself against his root. She wants to get him off once to ease his tension as well, to be able to explore this gorgeous person at her leisure.  

Anduin’s vision goes blurry and he falls, falls into a bliss previously unknown to him while he pulses inside her. She cries with him, feeling his peak through their connection, grinding herself on him until she joins the same wave. It’s oh so much more intense and thorough than spasming empty against nothing.

_I was supposed to go slow._

Sylvanas watches the stupidly smiling, beautiful young man under her. Leaning on his chest she smiles back, trying not to show how frighteningly happy she actually feels. _It’s just pheromones and endorphin. Good drugs._

“We should order that tea now.”

Anduin has seen her mask slip occasionally and then grow back on. She seems both joyful and moody like there were two opposite forces fighting inside her mind. Now she’s acting cool again. Flirty, relaxed but still reserved in some way. _Will I get through that wall?_

“Yeah. I’m actually starving”, he laughs when they get up.

There are 11 missed calls from Baine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eastern Kingdoms is Europe, where they are now. Britain could be Outland.  
> The titles are taken from some of my favourite Sisters of Mercy songs. This one:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QL-4OnrQp-8


	3. We Got the Kingdom, We Got the Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for my lovely gang of weirdshippers for all the fun times and support, you know who you are! Here's some more royal massage for you _Nevijek_ ;)

 

After their first carnal encounter Anduin has visibly relaxed, which is exactly what Sylvanas intended. There’s not even much post-coital awkwardness. She leads with her good mood, smoothes any starting uncomfortable moments like she never knew she could, and soon he picks up on it. Her uncharacteristic cheerfulness and his open mind make a good match.

The room service brings them midnight snack. The young man watches as the vocalist opens the door dressed in a huge hotel bathrobe with a hood, and once the door to their private realm is closed again, she lets it drop from her shoulders to the floor. She’s put on lace underpants and her black sleeveless top is still on, otherwise she’s bare. Removing the red contact lenses revealed her gray-green irises, but to him she still looks as arcane as before.

Anduin’s gaze follows her hips’ movement, this time not looking for a distraction from anywhere else. She smiles widely at his gaze, almost wanting to giggle, loving the adoration in his eyes. This is not the same love she gets on the stage - similarly empowering, but this is _intimate._ This is for _her,_ bypassing her stage persona (which, truthfully, _is_ very close to her own). The boy isn’t only seeing her beauty, she can recognize more in his eyes. That must be part of the reason why she isn’t as aware of her body as she usually is.

She puts the tray in the middle of the king-sized bed and he joins her. Sitting on the mattress her other leg dangling over the edge lazily she picks a piece of cheese from the pile of snacks. Anduin feels speechless, eyes dark again. _She just sits there, half naked, like it was the most natural thing._ He had put his jeans on and it now seems to have been a waste of time. She sees it and laughs, absolutely delighted.

”Go on, eat something first! You were hungry.”

”Yes… I guess I was.”

”I said we have time. You need your strength, young man”, she teases and takes another bite. Vaguely she’s aware of herself eating in front of a stranger and not being bothered by it. The situation makes even the food taste better, yet her appetite isn’t culinary. Anduin gains some semblance of self-control and dives into the food. Instinctively Sylvanas gets up and roams into the room, letting him have his space while eating. He doesn’t need it but it’s her habit, she expects the courtesy from everyone else as well. Then she realizes something she might have overlooked.

“Or is someone waiting for you?”

“No, not like that. I live alone. But I should send a text to my… friend. I seem to have a lot of missed calls.” For some reason he doesn’t want to tell who he came with. Hanging out with an uncle sounds like he needs a babysitter. He texts briefly to Baine, lying he went home. Sylvanas laughs softly.

“Oh, you just ditched them and left with me.”

“Yeah… How come you have a hotel room? I thought you were from here.”

“I am. But I don’t live here anymore, this is the first time in years I even visit.” The memories of all that happened in the city still plague her - it was a big step to return here. It wasn’t easy, but neither was it as painful as she had feared. Burned bridges won’t be built back, but the ruins of her past are covered in a thick layer of mold, rubble and ash. If she doesn’t stir them, she can visit, but she could never live here again.

“I have a house in Durotar, near Grommash.”

“Countryside, huh?”

“You've been there?”

“My uncle hails from there. Wouldn’t have thought you the type of person… to chop wood or feed the chickens.” He grins, obviously proud of himself for daring to joke. His face is still a bit flushed but he seems to have acclimated to the tension that’s in the room even as they pretend to chat casually. Sylvanas is leaning on a wall opposite to the bed, looking at her toes, then back at the boy.

“You’d be surprised. It’s very peaceful there. God knows I need that.” Her doctor had agreed emphatically when she’d pondered about the move.

The golden-haired young man seems to have eaten enough, looking a bit flustered again. Smiling and mumbling some kind of _excuse-me_ he leaves for the bathroom. _So adorable._

When Anduin returns, hair on a tidier ponytail, Sylvanas is sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning on the headboard. She’s tingling all over from the anticipation, knowing she’ll get everything she wants tonight and wanting to savour it. He draws in breath and goes to her, hesitating at the edge of the bed. She tilts her head, almost saying something about not needing to fear but then she censors herself. _He’s young but don’t underestimate him, don’t mock. That’s not you, that’s Arthas._

She waits for him to sit on the mattress at his own pace. He also sits cross-legged, in a casual version of the lotus position he learned abroad. Close enough to touch, far enough to be polite. He is watching her face, curious, nervous, wanting. She just smiles back at the boy, allowing the tension tighten between them. _Is this what he felt? Was it this exhilarating feeling of power that made him toy with me until I almost broke? I will not be like him._

She extends her hand on the boy’s shoulder and slowly slides her fingertips on his neck, under the collar of the shirt. He shivers. She tugs at the neckline for a second like wanting to rip the item off, then continues back under his ear. Her other hand moves to his waist and slips under the hem of the screaming yellow garment. Her splayed fingers move smoothly up his pectoral muscles, their tautness sending jolts of desire down her loins. The boy is an endless source of marvel and aesthetic pleasure for her. _So trimmed and strong and young. A bit blue-eyed and optimistic. But… not stupid. I know I was._

If he had smelled of alcohol when they met even his blue eyes wouldn’t have swayed her to consider inviting him to her room.

“Is this your favourite colour?” She asks, words meaningless, voice velvety and low. It confuses Anduin to no end that this lady is capable of intense erotic acts and talking at the same time with coherent, complete sentences.

“No, I… well I like it but not… that much. I just put it on to annoy the goths.”

Her laughter rings like bells. “Such a rebel! I applaud you, Anduin. Bringing sunlight into the dark world of the grim and the depressed.”

She hooks her hands under the shirt, pulling it off him in swift motion. His chest is almost smooth, sprinkled with the same practically invisible golden hair as his arms. She sighs. Her hands slide over his biceps and she notices he has a tattoo too, on his shoulder.

“Ooh, what’s _this?_ You aren’t completely immaculate after all.” It’s a stylized picture of a lion’s head from the front, looking almost like a logo or an emblem. Anduin’s eyes take on a shade of melancholy.

“It’s for my father. He had a similar one.”

She weighs if she can joke about it, deciding it’s too early. But she has a nickname for him already.

“He’s gone?” He nods. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright… it’s been over a year now. I’m… getting better.” He realizes the subject might be too personal for someone he has just met, but her eyes tell him she understands loss very well. Her hands have stopped, letting him decide the next move.

  
  
*****

 

Alone at last in her hotel room Maiev opens a can of cola to try and sober up. After downing it in one go she strips irritably out of her stage clothes, puts on an oversized Banshees’ t-shirt and crashes on the bed with her phone in one hand, long blond hair cascading on the pillow like a sweaty and tangled waterfall. Tomorrow she’ll regret not combing it, but maybe dreadlocks will become a thing again. After a drawn-out sigh she opens the lock screen and logs onto a certain discussion channel.

_It’s not like he will find out._

Her conscience nags at her, and for the eleventh time she considers making another profile to go and contradict herself fiercely in there. One should never write anything online when enraged. Or drunk. Or both.

_Syl is probably banging that cute boy right now._

The familiar longing aches in her chest and between her thighs. But it’s not a blond man she’s thinking about.

Contrary to what she lets on she _has_ seen The Illidari live. She has also seen all their videos and all the interviews she’s been able to hunt down from the web. Her most viewed is the one where a very intrusive female show host with a low-cut dress demands to know if the rest of Illidan’s huge body is “in proportion”. The way he handles the answer is _perfect,_ teetering on forward flirting and yet professional and cool.

Maiev is thinking about the question as well, aroused and repulsed. She knows where he lives. Her lonely laughter is humorless. _I’m becoming a common stalker, aren’t I?_

There’s a message from Del.

_“U mad bro”_

It makes Maiev smile instantly. The girl is so adorably dorky no-one can be angry at her for long. She just wishes she hadn’t told the others about Sira the way she had. It was bound to come out but now it looks like she’s jealous because her friend got a job. Which isn’t the case at all. Even Sira doesn’t _know,_ Maiev presumes, but they haven’t talked since so she cannot be certain.

_“No but shut up ok?”_

_“K. Sorry. Lub u”_

_“i mean it. now the crones think im some wannabe illidari”_

_“I think they just see you want his D”._ There’s a selection of fruit and vegetable emojis after that one.

_“GO F URSELF BYE”_

Delaryn’s obvious jokes stab Maiev in the gut. She’ll need to grow some mental armor and rent a poker face before Sethekk, otherwise she will be found out. If she already hasn’t.

 

  
****

 

Slowly Anduin raises his hands on Sylvanas’ unbelievably narrow waist. His training automatically takes over and the grip isn’t shy. He knows she liked it earlier. He examines the tattoos on her hip, unintelligible albeit beautiful letters and stylized skulls running under the lace of her underwear. His fingers follow them down, slide over her mound and it makes her inhale sharply. He has no clear idea how to continue there so he moves higher, caresses her belly and sides over the cloth and stops before her breasts.

He glances at her, seeking affirmation. It’s there, her raw want, burning but restrained. He keeps the gaze while his hands slowly, almost shaking, slide on the round sides of her breasts. Her lips open, her posture straightens. His heart has started pounding again with the fast pace. His warm palms move over her erect nipples straining against the cloth. Sylvanas closes her eyes. They are both trembling though neither one notices the other doing so.

When he slides over the peaks of her breasts again she whines, gripping the sheets. He pauses there, still fearing he might step over some line and be vulgar. In their studies it was emphasized that they need to be extra careful never to accidentally - let alone intentionally - touch any erogenous zones, and his hands lose their learned confidence once they arrive on those areas. After her encouraging look he slides his open palms over the nipples, again and again in a gentle circular movement, like a massage but without any force, not kneading, not gripping, not pinching. He feels the peaks harden even more and assumes it a good sign, especially with the look the dark goth lady has on her face.

Sylvanas feels she could climax on this alone any second now. It was never like this, not even when she was young and madly in love. _Don’t jump on him yet, let it build, see how long you can endure._

“Take it off”, she whispers after a minute, yanking the hem of her top. _Welp, that wasn’t a record time._

With trembling hands Anduin pulls the garment over her head, messing her moon-blonde locks, liberating her beautiful round breasts. She tosses the cloth somewhere and grabs his hands, placing them back on her chest. The skin contact is magical. Her breasts feel _fantastic,_ soft and heavy and full in his hands _._ He can smell her arousal and it makes him dizzy and throbbing.

“Do it again”, her raspy voice commands.

The touch of his big, hot hands makes her moan until, again, she loses her patience before the still-almost-teenage boy does. _Unbelievable._ She palms his erection through the jeans and moves forward, pushing him to his back. _I’m sorry you need to be this passive, maybe later I’ll trust you more._

Anduin doesn’t mind, honest. Except he’s about to burst again and is getting jittery because of that, and once he realizes where she is going, the risk gets even higher. She pulls his pants down enough for her to grab the beautiful erect body part and on all fours - except the grabbing hand - lower her mouth towards it. She smiles crookedly and licks the tip.

“Ah - are you sure -”

“Anduin. I promise you I won’t do anything I don’t want to. And it goes both ways. Is this ok? Just say if you don’t want me to.”

“No, I…”

“No?”

_“Yes! Please.”_

“Good. I have it on a reliable source that a man of your age is able to perform several times a night, so there’s no need to worry.”

She swallows his length slowly and it makes them both throb in their core. His last coherent thought is he might be betraying his decisions, new as they are in this case. He was supposed to take care of _her_ and make her feel loved. This is too much of a pornographic fantasy and he doesn’t yet know those two don’t have to be at odds.

He has probably watched too many Disney movies.

 

***

 

Shadowmoon Valley, despite its fanciful and poetic name, is an average looking suburb an hour’s drive away from Terokkar. Illidan Stormrage, the leader and vocalist of The Illidari he had so humbly named, is fondling his new bass guitar in the basement of the apartment. The room serves as the band’s practice space and he’s done a good job with it, soundproofed the walls and all.

He admires the bass and thinks about how to personalize it. He’ll be naming it after his favorite D&D boss from his youth, the first he ever killed.

_Black as my soul. But it needs more glowing green._

He plucks a few low, thick chords and writes the melody down. There’s a need to compose a new hit. Something between metal and mainstream, angry and sexy like their biggest success so far, _“My Brother’s Girlfriend”,_ had been. After that the category _mental rock_ he had coined really took root in the fandom and he was able to buy this small house. And the bass.

The tall, buff dark-haired man chuckles at the face he remembers Malfurion making the next time they met after the song’s airing on the local radio. His pompous bro was slow to adapt to the new technologies, and while Tyrande had taught him to use Spotify Illidan knew he sure as hell wasn’t going to search his little brother’s music. Not after their conflict. So he had gone the old school way as well, to make sure the annoying lovebirds heard the song.

 _Their song._ A bit different from the sappy post-rock Ash & Vale make. _They’re practically a pop duo,_ Illidan accuses, snorting by himself.

That ugly rumour had still been circulating so it was just as well to profit off the notoriety. He’s nothing if not pragmatic and he had the balls to pull it off. Sticks and stones as well as words bounce off his steeled body and mind. 

After getting some lines down he picks up his gym bag and heads up the stairs. He’ll be late for work if he doesn’t leave now. Illidan greets the morning sun with a wide grin, its attempts to blind him countered by the mirrored shades he put on.

 

****

 

Late Sunday morning Sylvanas wakes up alone in the huge bed. Feeling healthier than in years she sits up, groaning at the lovely ache in her pelvic muscles. She sees the boy a few meters away reclined on the sofa, watching her with a gentle, sleepy smile and a bulge in his boxers. She grins back.

The hotel room has become their own timeless isle. The curtains have been drawn day and night. The weekend passed surprisingly fast, and at the same time they both feel they’ve been there for weeks, months, known each other for years. Sylvanas would be the first to laugh at the notion of _soulmates,_ but there it is - the dreamlike ease of being together, electrified happiness that can be felt both physically and mentally, the hunger to touch the other.

 _Way to go, hormones,_ she muses, not having the heart to say it out loud.

Having lived alone for a decade it’s a small wonder she can be so relaxed with the young man. The few quirks she had to maintain passed smoothly, Anduin willing to accept any and all terms she stated. Her inability to fall asleep next to another person was reason enough to order him to the couch, in addition to the very lively nightmares that still sometimes plagued her. She contemplates if she’s missing out on something in not being able to wake up beside her lover, but finding him in the same room, full focus on her, is more than enough.

”Good morning, you two”, she says, wiggling her brow. That makes the boy facepalm and laugh. Anduin had never liked the lewd jokes or insinuations some boys and men use. He’s naturally appalled by them, wanting to correct guys who fail to treat women as _people,_ but in his books the same rule applies for ladies as well. He’s had his share of whistles and ass-grabbery in the street.

Sylvanas is both blunt and dryly funny and somehow passes his _rudeness detector_ with some of the smuttiest things he’s ever heard, wrapped up in metaphors and euphemisms. And he finds himself enjoying them. He maintains his gentlemanly and reserved language, but the lady is allowed to say whatever she wishes about their genitals or physical activities.

There are a few missed calls and about 49 messages in her phone, most of them in the Banshees’ WhatsApp group (it’s named _Howlin’ at Shit_ at the moment, not sure who chose that). Reading some of them she chuckles to herself. _So, someone saw us._ Anduin gets up from the sofa and approaches her, she nods an invitation.

Maiev: _”Young meat keeping you well fed iykwim”_

Delaryn: _”Don’t drain the poor lad completely rofl!”_

Cyndia: _“Stfu noobs”_

Kalira: _”Syl, are you ok hun?”_

Feeling the healing hands slide gently over her thighs towards her bum she types a short neutral announcement to let them know she’s alive and puts the mobile away facedown and silenced.

Sylvanas is not in any hurry to get rid of the young masseur and he doesn’t seem to have anything else on his schedule. And if he did, he forgot. She calls the reception with the hotel landline to extend her stay until Monday and returns to lie lazily beside her lover on the bed. They’re both wearing only underwear and it’s lovely, especially since she’s planning to undress them soon anyway. He got used to being half to completely naked in her presence in no time, the hippie that he is. The constant lovemaking finally wore off his initiate’s shyness and he had so much to learn it was just practical to concentrate fully.

Her fingers trace the bulge of his biceps, over his only tattoo.

”So, he was _the big lion._ You know what that makes you?” She bites her lip to hold half of her teasing grin at bay.

Anduin groans, not really annoyed but playing along. ”Oh, please don’t!”

”You know, I seem to have aching feet all of a sudden. Whatever am I to do?”

”Give them here.” He sits up on his knees in a seiza.

Almost as good as the sex and the yet unnamed happiness are his professional hands eagerly and relentlessly massaging her whenever she asks - or doesn’t ask. The boy loves to touch, loves to heal her real or assumed aches and genuinely just do good. Sylvanas turns around, swinging her feet towards her playmate’s expecting hands. Sighing happily at the first contact on the sole of her foot she sinks into the pillows.

”Oh god, that feels so goohhhh—”

Anduin rubs along the inner curve of her foot with just the right amount of pressure. After that he moves to the middle of the sole where the sensitive nerve ends and - if he’s to believe his yoga teacher Velen - meridian points are located. True or not, massaging them feels like a _nirvana_ to her. The singer sighs, contented, and closes her eyes. Having turned her into a purring oozeling with the treatment of one foot the young masseur picks up the other onto his lap and strokes it just as meticulously. Every toe separately, the thick skin of the heel, Achilles’ tendon.

”This is better than _anything ever._ Can I just lie here the whole day? Thanks.”

”Sure you can… if you are _able_ to.”

His hands massage up along her calf, gently but firmly kneading it like so much dough, sending spikes of good pain and tingles of relaxing muscle tension up to her brain. The underside of the lower thigh near the knee is especially _yummy_ to be handled by the strong healing hands. When they reach her upper and inner thigh the atmosphere shifts from pure enjoyment to anticipation.

”Why wouldn—- _oh.”_ He does it extremely slowly, methodically and pretending to be a serious professional with no secret agendas. His lopsided grin and the boner give him away, though. He’s practically between her thighs. Arriving at the lace of her underwear he smoothly moves to her other leg, the one yet to receive the treatment.

All this time Sylvanas has whined and mewled in a massaging euphoria. _If all the clients vocalize their contentment like this, how on earth am I to manage…?_

When he reaches her panties again, they are visibly soaked and her chest is rising rapidly. He lightly brushes his knuckles over her mound making her gasp. _No, not yet._

”Turn around.”

”Yeah…” She does as directed, feeling lightheaded. Her whole body tingles, the heat emanating from her center towards every limb and extreme. She puts a pillow under her hips. Anduin rises to his knees and reaches for a bottle on the nightstand. Her skin lotion works almost as well as petroleum jelly which they normally use at school. Looming behind her he spreads the lotion on the backs of her thighs and slides his massaging hands over them, sometimes pressing deeper, sometimes caressing soothingly. The constant upwards direction along the muscles is like an arrow pointing to where she ultimately feels all this, pulsating, hot.

When he takes a good handful of her buttock into his grip she's so _done._ He feels her moans directly in his erection. His thumbs carve deep into her gluteus, coaxing the muscles through the initial pain into a relaxed bliss, pushing her hips down against the pillow with every move.

Grabbing a woman’s ass would be ill-mannered. But this he can do - with consent, without hesitation, and do it well.

Sylvanas opens her thighs slightly and, reaching her hand back to pull the middle of her panties aside, commands the young man without words.

Feeling him sliding inside her is the closest to heaven she’s sure she’ll ever get. And she will have this particular angel for one more night.

 

 


	4. On the Loan and on the Level

 

And so it came to pass that Monday arrived along with the necessity to part. Both parties were feeling a bit wistful rising from the huge hotel room bed. There was the exchanging of phone numbers which neither of them wanted to bring up but oh, so wanted that the other would. The closeness they had shared throughout these two and a half mad days and nights still lingered, but the awkwardness raised its ugly head at last. Anduin’s studies started early and he needed to dash via home to change clothes.

Did they want this to continue? Was it even possible, with their different lives, home locations far apart and an age gap that wasn’t so much a gap as a gorge?

In the end it was the _little lion_ who resolved the trivial problem.

“Here, I’ll leave you my phone number in case you ever feel any ache in… your feet.” They grin at that so much that their last moment together, hovering at the hotel room door, is a sweet one. Sylvanas is left in the narrow hallway, a piece of paper in her hand, naked save for the panties, lips tingling from the kiss.

She saves the number in her phone immediately. _Well now, that was an excellent weekend._

Her train leaves this afternoon for the next destination, Old Dalaran, where maybe one of the coolest clubs she’s ever been to is located. It’s called Alterac Ruins and it’s literally these gorgeously Gothic church ruins converted into a nightclub and a small concert venue. The owners had left a corner of the building in ruins on purpose, making it look haunted from the outside.

The band doesn’t travel together since there’s a week between these gigs and everyone can get there however they please. Sylvanas wanted to spend some days in the legendary city as a tourist so she’s going there earlier than the others. The young ones - well, _younger,_ Maiev’s about 30 - come by Del’s car, the original members take a train. Nathanos and his lackeys will bring the equipment on Thursday.

She’s relieved for having an excuse to postpone the inquisitorial cross-examination for a few days further. She’ll eventually have to face it, but maybe her band members’ enthusiasm will have calmed down a notch by then.

She’s not even sure what she would answer. To any question. Except maybe the ones about quality and quantity.

There are still several hours until checkout. A nice long bath and a lazy breakfast sound like a good way to settle down from the serotonin high.

Her phone keeps beeping. She silences it.

 

****

 

Meanwhile her recently knighted lover is late for school. He had managed to slip into a fresh set of clothes, find his books and run to the bus stop to miss the bus. Not the end of the world, that, except his unusual tardiness made him the center of attention, which is why some people noticed he was glowing like a happy bridegroom. After finding his seat in the theory class he tries his hardest to keep the sneaking smile in check.

“Anduin! Oi! Dude! Just the guy I wanted to talk to!” Another student inches towards him dragging his chair with him. The boy is about his age and seems nice, blond hair longer than his and a face so pretty he could earn his living as a model. Anduin doesn’t remember talking to him more than a few times so his forwardness is a bit surprising. They converse whispering behind their huge anatomy encyclopedias though their teacher couldn’t care less so long as they passed the tests.

“Hi. Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Arator. I was at the concert on Friday too!”

It’s too late to try and suppress the rising blush. Anduin pretends a cough and fumbles with his hair so it covers his face a bit more.

“Oh, cool. I didn’t see you there though.”

“I was at the V.I.P. balcony with my family. I tried to wave at you but I couldn’t go yelling your name, now could I. How on earth did _you_ end up there? You don’t seem the type who listens to anything gloomier than Muse”, Arator snickers.

“I was also with my family, my uncle is a huge fan of the band. I do like them, he made me listen to a lot of different music when I was a kid so I’m ...initiated.” _In more ways than I can count. Shut up, brain, not here and not now._

They share a chuckle at the silly goth elders. Anduin’s image of them has altered somewhat in the last two days. And nights. And mornings... _Shush, I said not now._

“Aunt Sylvanas is cool though. Mom says she used to be way darker.” 

After recovering from the coughing fit and gathering his books from the floor Anduin excuses himself to the bathroom for a good ten minutes.

 

****

 

The Illidari have gathered to their leader’s lair. He whips them for hours towards perfection, towards becoming the instrument of havoc he has foreseen. _“The world will come down”,_ he growls, making the Azzinoth boom in his unrelenting and deft hands, his tribal-tattooed forearms bulging. They all are sweaty, pushing themselves a bit more each time. Finally one of them breaks down.

“I need a toilet break, Illy.”

“OK, Vashj. Let’s take a break, everyone. That one wasn’t so bad, we’re getting there. Sira, you’ve done a great job catching up in such a short time.”

“It isn’t exactly advanced math, but thanks.” The fair-haired woman sets the drumsticks down and wipes her forehead in a towel.

“Let’s make it a lunch break. There’s lemonade and snacks upstairs. Altruis, do you have a moment?” The other tall, buff man places his guitar safely on a stand and nods to the band leader.

“See if this is any good, OK? Not the words, mind. The melody and your riffs. The words are precisely how I want them to be.”

“I know the drill, boss”, Altruis says calmly. _You cannot find a more patient man,_ Illidan muses. The two go to the gym together and sometimes rock climbing. Even in the middle of the most painful grind he keeps his composure whereas Illidan groans or mumbles expletives to soothe the strain in the muscles. He’s patient in his own way, ready to wait for an eternity if need be without forgetting his goals, but Altruis also _looks_ calm while doing so.

“Yeah, it works. This could be the next big thing. Although….”

“What? I said no commenting on the lyrics.”

“Alright.” The other hunk turns towards the staircase.

“OK, OK, give it to me _raw.”_

“No, they’re cool. Just noticing the sexy anger being a recurring theme. But there are not many performers who can pull it off like you do, so I don’t really mind. It just might… lead to a certain change in our fanbase, is all.”

“Would that be a bad thing? Straight women and gay men use the same currency than any old metalhead dick while buying our merch.” His grin is wide and the green eyes twinkle.

“Well, I actually meant some fans abandoning us, but since you put it like _that…”_

“I’m sure it’ll mostly bring in new fans. Nothing wrong in making calculated decisions. After all, I’m an employer of four people plus myself. It’s totally feasible to earn well and not lose your artistic integrity. Anyone who says otherwise has been in dire need of a manager.”

“How delightfully visionary of you. We’re in good hands.”

Illidan watches after him and has a vague feeling of being criticized in the guise of respect. Altruis has a way of making him see himself in an _alternative light_ and he’s not sure he likes it.

He lets them rest for twenty minutes before emerging in the doorway to the dining room and bellowing.

_“Alright, my Illidari! Are you prepared for round two?”_

There was much eyerollin’.

 

****

 

A few days later, while finishing his notes after the last class at school, Anduin gets a text. He’s been admirably calm this week, managed not to get a boner while practicing massage on the other students - and why would he, they aren’t _her_ \- and not to get overly sad at the possibility of never seeing her again. He has several means to contact her even if she doesn’t call him, one of them being _her nephew_ who he’s actively avoiding due to the blushing hazard.

It’s from her and he’s happy he is the last one in the classroom. The contents of the message are not the issue per se but the rush of fresh feelings and images her actually contacting him stirs.

_“How are you, little lion?”_

He’s fully erect before he has finished reading the sentence. Anduin grabs his backpack and rushes out of the room, looks both ways before crossing the hallway and locks himself inside the nearest gender neutral bathroom. Fortunate for him and everyone needing of privacy the bathrooms of the Silver Hand Health and Massage Institute are separate, single and clean little cubicles, like in most homes - instead of the horrible rows of pens in elementary school where anyone could peek under the half-door and see you pee.

Only one message, just a small poke that opens the connection between them anew, and he’s in flames. His hands are shaking when he fumbles with the phone to save her number, almost deleting the message by accident. That makes his heart pound like he had just avoided falling off a cliff. After a moment of thinking he names her Guess Who, just in case. He sends an answer, worried about the tone he should use.

_“I’m fine, especially now :) How’s Old Dalaran?”_

_“Beautiful but lonely. May I call you in the evening?”_

_“Of course!”_

_“Talk to you then.”_

Anduin is beaming and trembling, the smile making his cheeks ache. Memories of their last time together, in that early morning when he soon was forced to leave the hotel room, flood his mind. The atmosphere had been a tad melancholic, both of them aware of their imminent goodbye. The whole weekend had been amazing, eye-opening, educating and filled with such delights he later feared it all had been some exceptionally wild dream. Sylvanas had guided him, pleasured him, _taken_ him in so many ways. She had been in command the whole weekend, either literally on top of him or at least telling him what to do - and he was grateful for that, more than eager to comply - but right before their parting she had invited him into her arms, and it had been ...different. Anduin had sensed there were deeper concerns, maybe fears or bad experiences that made her wary of being cornered and needing to always be in control. In their farewell embrace she let go just a bit more, let him closer, like it was a matter of… trust.

 _I can’t go out like this,_ he groans and decides to do something daring. He has never, not even in his earlier teens, been the sort to flaunt his sexuality or masturbate in odd places. He always locked himself securely in his room while needing the privacy. But now he has a hunch calming down isn’t an option.

He palms himself through the jeans, hard and throbbing, and with hands still trembling from the adrenaline he opens the zipper. He would die of embarrassment and probably quit the studies altogether if he were found out. Face hot and eyes closed Anduin leans on the wall and takes himself in his grip. He starts stroking, images of her beauty, the memory of the sound of her voice and the touch of her skin filling his mind. _Her scent, oh dear god, the scent of her sex…_ His breath hitches when he remembers how she had moaned clenching around his girth, and he comes, spilling hotly over his fingers, gasping, holding back his voice.

One weekend can make such a difference.

The reality of her being not only twice his age but also a singer in a fairly known cult band, thus a celebrity in some circles, hits him again. _Arator’s aunt. Dear lord._ If anyone were to find out… Baine who adores her, those equally scary looking band members of hers, uncle Genn with his rigorous beliefs, the people at school, especially Arator…

The others might be OK, eventually, but Genn would cut his allowance and force him into a monastery were he to get word that his wayward protégé and heir was having an affair out of wedlock and with a known (recovered) drug addict slash rock musician no less… Not to mention the age difference, that kept creeping back from every corner of every thought.

It had not mattered at all when they were together. Or if it had, it was all for the good: she had known what she wanted and had had the patience and language to tell him in no uncertain terms how to fulfill her wishes; he had felt wanted, welcome, closer to her than to any of the girls he had smooched before this - and it was almost impossible to even remember their faces or how they had felt, Sylvanas filling his consciousness completely now. All the stories of first times being clumsy fumbling in cramped, unsafe places with premature ejaculations and unsatisfied girls had nothing to do with the bliss he was still feeling.

The young man tidies himself and flushes the evidence of his misbehaviour down the toilet.

 

****

 

Finally Sylvanas gives in and answers a call from the _inquisition._ She’s having a stroll and a lunch break in a park near their concert venue, checking the surroundings for professional and recreational reasons. It’s from Maiev.

“Yeah?”

 _“SYLVIEEE! We have arrived! Where are you?”_ She has to hold the phone off her ear for a bit. That’s not Maiev, that’s Delaryn.

“Hi, Del. Keep it down, you don’t want me to lose my hearing or I’ll sing all wonky. Are you at the hotel?”

_“Yeah! It’s so cool! In a weird way! Can we please please finally see you and hear everything about your lo---”_

There’s a rustling sound, laughter and some muffled cuss words before another voice speaks in a calmer tone.

_“Sorry about that, boss. She nicked my phone just before you answered and I had to chase her -- Nevermind. Should we meet? What time tomorrow we get the backstage?”_

“It’s all in the mail I sent you, but yeah, let’s meet. My room in an hour, 207. Is Kalira there, could I have a word with her, please?”

_“Of course.”_

_“Hi Syl.”_

“Any chance you could restrain the lemmings when we meet? I’m really not in the mood for any oversharing. Ever.”

 _“Yeaah I’ll try.”_ There’s laughter in her voice.

“Some friend. OK, see you soon.”

When she returns to the hotel the band is already camping at her door, conspiratorial and/or suggestive smiles on their faces.

“Oh, get lost all of you!” She laughs, unable to keep a straight face.

“See? See! I won, gimme.” Delaryn extends her palm in front of Maiev who looks slightly guilty yet rolls her eyes - and smiles.

“I didn’t actually enter in any game but whatever.”

“What? If there is any betting about me I’m reducing the wins from your cut.”

“Aww boo. I just said I’m sure you can’t _not_ smile when you see us, is all.”

Sylvanas opens her room door, still smiling, and the whole shebang that is the Banshees follows her unceremoniously. Cyndia goes to the fridge to get some soda, Delaryn flumps on the couch, Maiev hovers near her until she too sits down.

“Get the grape juice too, be a dear”, Sylvanas asks, fetching four glasses. “So, tomorrow afternoon around three we get the backstage, and the main stage for an hour or so for rehearsal. Showtime was… was it at ten?”

“Yeah”, Kalira confirms. Sylvanas fills a tall glass with the juice and sits on an armchair facing the sofa. She doesn’t realize she’s doing anything out of the ordinary but the noobs stare at her and don’t even avert their gaze when she stares back.

“What?”

“Yeaahh… now that the official business is out of the way, let’s get into the most pressing item of the day.”

Sylvanas chuckles and the eyeroll is inevitable. “Look, I have no idea what you think you’re getting out---”

“I don’t know if we even have to ask anything. I mean _look_ at her. _Damnnn.”_

“Yeah. Damn.” Maiev echoes, eyes still on Sylvanas. Now she just has to check her posture and then it dawns on her. She’s never before in their - or anyone else’s - presence sat in such a slack and relaxed way, one leg dangling over the arm of the chair and back reclined on the other sideways. She’s trying not to laugh but the effort is weak.

“And it’s not just that. Your _swagger_ when you came down that corridor -” Delaryn’s eyes are gleaming.

“OK, cut it out newbies, that’s quite enough”, Kalira interjects, using a very authoritative tone. She’s always been the mother bear of the band.

“He was _that_ good? Good _and_ hung. Like, totally. Wouldn’t have guessed, I bet he’s younger than me by the look of that cute face.”

 _“Del.”_ Kalira sounds angry and worried now. Sylvanas’ laughter interrupts the scene she was about to start for her leader’s sake.

“It’s alright, darling, thank you. I thought it would bother me but I guess I’ve changed my mind. Go on, get it out of your system”, she urges the nosy youngsters. Her cheerfulness makes them go silent for a spell. Cyndia is the first to speak.

“What mostly concerns me is: how are we to be a gloomy goth band if our singer is this happy? We’ll lose any street cred we ever had.”

“I know! I need to start taking drama classes.”

“I’m in a goth band and I’m not gloomy. So there.” Delaryn’s eyes are on her boss and she looks, if possible, even more adoring than before. “I mean, I used to be very _very_ depressed for years but then I got over it and now… I’ve decided not to let it take over ever again.” The Banshees haven’t heard their drummer talk about anything more personal than her taste in music and preferable bed partners so her straightforwardness kind of humbles them - for a split second, until Maiev continues their quest chain.

“Yeah, gloomy is _so last decade._ Or the one before that. So... the blond guy. Did you know him?”

“Nope. Had known him for a quarter of an hour when one of you saw us. Or I hope it was one of you and not some paparazzo. His name is Anduin and I like him a lot. He’s my physiotherapist.” Her grin reveals a lot more. _“Now_ I know him.”

“Oh _fook me._ Now I’m so jealous I’ll die. I _love_ getting massages!”

“I can give you a rub if you want, kid”, Cyndia says and her voice is so suggestive everyone in the room bursts into laughter. Delaryn blushes, and she doesn’t often do that.

“Oh come on, you cougar. Let the alpha cougar finish her revelations! We want to know his measurements and everything you did with him. And how.” Maiev enjoys grilling others, it keeps the focus off her. She grins like a predator.

“Yeah, revelations indeed. The guy looked like a fallen angel. And I don’t mean Lucifer. Unless he was _that_ good?”

“Some friend.” Sylvanas empties her glass of juice in a manner that makes the others thirsty, licking the rim like a satisfied cat. Her voice takes a seductive tone. “Now darlings, there’s something I need to do so I’m kicking you all out. See you tomorrow.”

“Poor Anduin, his innocence had no chance.”

_“Shoo!”_

 

****

 

_“Little lion.”_

Her voice sounds like what Anduin thinks velvet or rich dark chocolate would sound like, if they had voices. And the intention to get him to ...react.

“Hi. Um. Hi.”

He’s safely at his house, all curtains drawn and lights out in case some of his friends or nosy relatives got an idea to come visit unannounced. Some of them still did that even when they had cell phones.

One would think masturbating a couple of hours ago would help one keep his cool and himself in his pants. Her voice proves otherwise in just under a minute. One is very aroused. But so, in all likelihood, is the other.

_“I miss you. Could you just teleport here right now?”_

“Tele-- what?”

Her laughter is also made of dark chocolate on velvet. With bells.

_“Sorry. I’ve read too much science fiction.”_

“Oh, right, like _apparition_ in Harry Potter.”

 _“Probably.”_ Dodging the obvious generation gap there she continues, hungry for something she isn’t sure can be achieved via phone call. _“How have you been?”_

“Good. I’m good. What about you?” _I just pleasured myself in a public restroom because of your text. Can’t really say that. Or could I?_

_“Oh, I know you’re good. I’m feeling better than ever, my bandmates are making fun of me for not being goth enough anymore.”_

Anduin laughs, his newfound nervousness subsiding a bit. He almost starts telling about the incident with Arator but something stops him. It’s either his shyness or this uncertainty or the fear of inadvertently placing himself in the same lot with _her nephew_ thus underlining their age difference. He worries she wouldn’t like to be reminded of it, yet she had no problems at all when they were being…intimate. A tremor goes through him. He braves a confession with a voice that exposes his current thoughts.

“I miss you too.”

Sylvanas hears it. She draws in breath, closes her eyes and takes the plunge.

_“Come closer.”_

“Yes”, he breathes. He remembers vividly her touch, the smell of her skin, their embrace. Now he has her real voice, for a while. He wants to give her ...something.

“I can still... recall your scent. It’s… I… ” This isn’t easy for him. “I loved it.”

She suppresses a gasp, then realizes she should _reward_ him with them instead. _Oh, he is brave. Let’s go._

_“I want you - inside me.”_

He whines. His hand has moved almost like on its own and is pressing against the bulge in his blue boxers.

“I’m... ready for you, Sylvanas.”

Again she catches herself restraining her reaction. She’s lying on her back on the bed, wireless earbuds on, and her hand has flown to stifle the moan that the memory of his beautiful cock inspires. Her heart is pounding fast. _I hope he heard that. Why am I so afraid again? I want to let go._ She slips her hand lower and slides it deliciously into her slick warmth. The touch on her clit makes her whine and this time he hears it.

 _“God. You could enter me right now, I’m in a very ...willing state.”_ She ends up moaning at her own touch and the sound of him whimpering on the other end is nearly enough to tip her over. She pauses her fingers and forcibly moves them away from the most sensitive area. _Not yet, damnit._

_“Do you have a good ...grip?”_

“Yes…”

 _“Tell me.”_ Her core clenches almost violently. Damnit, she is going to prolong this even if it meant hollow cramps and jolts in the meantime.

Anduin slides his hand along his length, gritting his teeth. He too needs to slow down, otherwise it’s over in a minute. _Or… could they…?_

“I’m - too close - will you - join me? You know we both can… We have time, don’t we?”

 _“Oh god yes. Yes.”_ Her hoarse voice licks his imagination and he’s there, he’s nearly there.

 _The boy is a natural genius. I need to marry him or something._ Her fingers return to her swollen bud and she’s faster than him. She finally lets her voice free and lets him hear the breathy little sounds that soon grow in volume.

“Sylvanas - _please_ \- I’m...”

That right there, his pleading, lustful voice sends her hurling off into space, her almost surprised moan yanking him along with her. She has plunged the fingers of her other hand inside her but it isn’t quite the same, not the same at all as having the gorgeous, thick, pulsating shaft that Anduin is gripping, climaxing within her. She makes a mental note to pack some ...equipment next time she travels.

_“Jesus.”_

“...Yeah.”

_“So, we’ll be in Ironforge next weekend, wanna come hang out?”_

His heart leaps. “Definitely.”

_“I’ll order some real food in advance this time.”_

“I don’t remember feeling hungry… much.” They share a laugh and the closeness is back. Her fingers stay on her quim and listening to his voice she soon feels the spark again.

_“Sooo, little lion… What are you wearing? Anything yellow?”_

 

 

 


	5. And the Wind Blows Wild Again

 

 

“You look so satisfied and carefree, darling. I think I need a dose of some young flesh myself.”

_“Hello, this is your next paycheck calling, do go on, I’ll soon fit into my new tiny bikini.”_

Kalira isn’t fazed by her imitation of being offended, she looks too happy for that. Sylvanas isn’t sure which butterflies in her stomach belong to the stage fright team and which to the anticipation of seeing _him_ later. _I guess the yellow ones are his._

The lead singer of the goth band is grinning as she puts on her teary stage makeup. There are a couple of bands performing before their show, the Ironforge hometown number The Three Hammers are up now. Being an all-female group known for their present temperance - at least before shows, and they don’t linger much after - The Banshees get the nicest green rooms automatically. Sexism aside they don’t mind the treatment.

“You know I didn’t go out of my way to specifically find someone young? It was... an accident. Of sorts.” She flashes a grin and shrugs.

“I believe you. Your health seems to agree with accidentally bumping against his groin.”

“Yeah... “ She bursts into laughter and doesn’t even try to look annoyed. “You know how I am with food? This week I haven’t even remembered to count what I have eaten and it’s _so refreshing._ And I still fit in this dress, so...”

 _“Syl._ You could gain twenty pounds and still be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Ah, cut it out. It’s not even that. I wouldn’t mind some softness on me. It’s the damned old brainwash… You know. The way _he_ sometimes adored my thinness makes me think he would have wanted a corpse in his bed.”

“Oh god yeah, he probably thought necrophilia would suit his band’s image.” Talking bad about this particular dead is the only way of dispelling his curse, over and over again.

“I’m happy your new companion likes the living.” Kalira winks at her and ends the conversation when the rest of the group plus their long-time manager slash roadie come in.

“Sounds nice and all, but is he _legal?”_ Delaryn’s sing-song voice chips in. The vocalist tries to find a stern look but it fails miserably thanks to all the butterflies misdirecting her.

“Who we talking about?” Asks Nathanos, placing the gear - except _Maiev’s axe_ he’s not allowed to touch on pain of strangling - to the stands on the wall. Sylvanas and Kalira shake their heads but they are ignored for the juiciness of the gossip.

“Sylvie’s _physiotherapist._ A _very_ attractive young man.”

There was a time when Nathan had harbored hopes for one day getting Sylvanas to recognize him in other light than professional, and he feels a small tug in his cynical but apparently not yet dead heart. He grunts, feigning indifference.

“Is that what they are called these days?” With that, he’s out of the door.

“I wonder if he gets course credits for these anatomy less---” A decorative teddy bear smacks right in the middle of Delaryn’s face. Maiev proves unsuccessful in swallowing her laughter and needs a firm pat on the back to end the coughing. Kalira gladly helps with a wee bit of more force than necessary.

”Right. Whoever changes the subject _now_ gets my eternal gratitude.”

”Oh, oh! I know a good one! Everyone tell me the weirdest music you like!” She’s hugging the teddy, not shaken at all.

”That was fast. _Suck-up.”_

”Hey! It’s fun to know. I can start. Gwen Stefani! How ’bout you, Syl?”

”I love Massive Attack.”

”That’s not weird, they’re _the coolness._ Remember that gig, ’99 was it?”

”Damn you’re old. Never heard of them. Should I?”

”Yeah. My weirdest would be Cyndi Lauper. She’s kinda punk even if her music isn’t, exactly.”

”Almost your name. I think I saw her in some gala meme, red hair? Or was it white? She sounded rad.”

”I love Chopin. And other classical music as well.”

”Kali wins. Mine’s probably something like Linkin Park.”

”Not _The Illidari?”_

”That _would_ be weird, considering how much she hates them!” Delaryn giggles and moves onto the couch to go over their performance in her head. Eyes closed she air-beats the imaginary drums and hums quietly.

With a sound between a grunt and a dry laugh Maiev leaves the green room.

 

****

 

Anduin is nervous. He hides at the back of the hall, leaning against the cold stone wall of Ironforge’s shadiest concert club. With so many guys sporting massive beards here he has come to a conclusion that it’s some sort of bikers’ hangout. And the noisy trio on the stage isn’t exactly contradicting his assumption. They sound like a grindcore version of ZZ Top even with the female vocalist.

He had run to the train straight from school, not telling anyone where he was going and hoping to have gone unseen. The thought of getting caught - this part of the affair is pure teenage angst, if for slightly different reasons than usually - is so nerve-wrecking he almost goes and buys a beer. But he has never liked the taste or the effects of alcohol so it’s only a passing thought.

He has broken his tradition and is wearing a blue t-shirt now, not wanting to stand out in the crowd quite as much as he did the last time. A short, stocky man with a huge red beard bumps into him, mumbles a tipsy _‘xcuse me_ and saunters on. Anduin sighs.

 _Still one more band to go before the Banshees._ His eyes scan around the area where he thinks the backstage is, if there was a chance to get a glimpse of _her._

_“Anduin!”_

_Oh, no._

His heart jumps up to his throat and he has to swallow it forcefully so it has room to start pounding like the Three Hammers’ drummer on stage. He disciplines his face into a polite smile and slowly turns his head.

“Arator.”

“You really _are_ a fan.” The boy slaps his shoulder jovially.

“Yeah… um…” Nothing comes to his rescue. Not even a white lie. _Thanks, brain._

“I’m taking you backstage after the gig. My mom and dad are coming too.”

A cold sweat starts forming on Anduin’s brow. “Are they… here?” _Sylvanas’ whole family. What have I gotten myself into?_

“Yeah, but only for these two gigs. We’re not travelling abroad for the rest of the tour.”

He thinks feverishly if he should send her a text warning about the possible family gathering. But what if it messes up her performance, making her nervous? He’ll have to make up some excuse. He has time.

Arator stays with him, yelling over the music until there’s a break between this and the next act.

“You know Tae, in our class?”

“Mmm… is she the red haired one with glasses?”

“No, you dolt. Taelia. The one with dark hair, this short.”

“Oh, yes. What about her?”

“She totally has the hots for you, man.”

“What? Oh. I haven’t - “ He wouldn’t notice any other attractive person even if they served themselves half naked on a bed - and in his studies that’s what happens daily. His head and heart have been so filled with Sylvanas it’s a wonder his exam papers aren’t covered in doodles of her hip tattoos. Or the curve of said hip.

 _“Unbelievable._ It’s so obvious. Are you involved with someone then?”

“Um…” Now here’s a trick question if ever he saw one. “Yes.”

“Ah, OK. They’re not here?” He was wrong. The real trick question came after. He has a feeling there will be more. The mom jokes had always left him cold and now he’s almost dropping an aunt one. And lying has never been Anduin’s strong suit.

“I’m alone here, as you can see.” He smiles feebly.

“Yeah. You know what? There’s still twenty minutes ‘til the next band. Let’s go to the backstage now. You can get their autographs or whatever.”

“Um… yeah… one second, I needed to… answer this.” He fishes his phone from the back pocket and sends an S.O.S. to Guess Who. No longer will it mess up her prepping more than the visit it foreshadows.

“I know you’re shy but you’ll thank me later, so no excuses! Think of how jealous your uncle will be!”

 _Yeah, about that…_ He flinches like someone just slapped him in the face.

Arator drags him by the wrist towards the back of the club laughing happily. The hall is starting to fill up. They pass a tall, buff man with tribal tattoos on his arms and long, black hair gleaming in the randomly aimed party lights. He’s leaning on a column, ruggedly handsome face turned towards the stage being prepared for the next performance, deep in thought.

 

****  


 

_“ARATOR backstage sorry help”_

It’s a good thing she decided to put her muted phone on the dressing table, otherwise she would have missed the message. She looks around the room. Nathanos is out of sight, probably hanging outside the door guarding as though they still had raving fans these days; Maiev has gone to see Phantasms so she can later diss them like she does the Illidari. Kalira sees her panicky look and raises her brow quizzically. Del is chatting with Cyndia on the sofa, giggling.

“Girls. Now. I need you to behave. _Do. Not. Expose. Me._ OK?”

“What?”

“I’m serious. Please.” That’s all she has time to say. There’s a knock on the door. Her stomach does somersaults. _What am I, fifteen?_

“Aunt Sylvanas!”

“Arator. Hello.” She’s cooler than a frozen cucumber. Her young relative dashes to hug her and she hugs him back, shifting sideways. “Mind the makeup, dear. Delaryn, this is my nephew.” Over his shoulder her eyes meet those of her secret lover, who looks so awkward and apologetic wet puppies have nothing on him. Except puppies cannot blush like he does. Sylvanas feels the warmth in her rising. _Oh I’ll eat you up later, lion pup._ He’s standing in the doorway, the opened door hiding him from the rest of the Banshees.

“Who’s this?” She hopes she sounds credibly nonchalant. Arator beams.

“That’s my classmate Anduin. He’s a fan of yours and I wanted to give him a treat.”

It’s a good thing no-one was drinking anything. Within a delay of three seconds Delaryn cries _“Ha!”_ before Cyndia’s hand muffles her and Kalira doesn’t know whether the thing on her face is a grin or a grimace.

“Hello, Anduin. Do come in.” She cannot resist the temptation of letting just a wee bit of seduction creep into her voice, especially since that’s what her stage persona would do. The young man takes a step inside the room and Arator fusses about him.

“Come on, they won’t bite.” Anduin isn’t so sure about that. He nods politely towards the three absurdly grinning women and then to Sylvanas.

“Hello… ladies. I’m sorry to bother you…”

Delaryn yanks the silencing hand off her mouth and chirps happily. “Not at all, always a pleasure to meet a fan!”

 _“You’ve never met fans before, you twat”,_ Cyndia whispers. Del elbows the older banshee.

_“Just look at him!”_

_“Shhh.”_

In that second, seeing their faces, Anduin realizes they all know about him. He closes his eyes for a spell and takes a deep breath.

“Girls, behave. You’re making him feel unwelcome.” Sylvanas stands up from the chair and extends her hand to their visitor. She’s wearing a figure-hugging black lace dress with her trademark army boots and purposely ripped mesh stockings. They shake hands looking just as awkward as they feel, jolts of pleasure crackling in the skin contact. She smiles into his eyes keeping it professional like a champion.

“I hope you’ll enjoy the show.”

“I’m sure I will… ma’am.”

Arator has watched them, content in having done the good deed of the day, oblivious to the indecent hand signs and expressions happening behind his back on the circus of a couch. Then they hear the cheers for the next band. _Phew._

“You shouldn’t miss them either, I hear their show is ...theatrically entertaining.”

“Aww, won’t you at least give him a k---” Delaryn is wrestled to the couch by Cyndia’s fast save, a silencing palm interrupting the suggestion. She stares at the noob under her in the eye until she stops struggling and goes limp, cheeks red.

“Your new member is a funny one, aunt.” Sylvanas shrugs and shoots the _funny one_ a murdering look.

“Yes, you know how it is, so hard to find good minions these days.”

Sylvanas is trying to ~~shoo~~ escort Arator and the totally unknown and never before seen companion of his out of the door when Maiev dashes in, perturbed, white in the face like she has either seen a ghost or the band on the stage has really overdone their masks this time.

“I thought you wanted to see Phantasms.”

_“I can’t play today!”_

“What?”

“There’s… hey, isn’t this the --”

“Yes, _my nephew Arator._ Arator - Maiev. Catch you later, kid. Was nice meeting you, Anduin.” She guides the young men out, her other hand on Arator’s shoulder, the other squeezing Anduin’s bum by way of goodbye. She couldn’t resist it and she regrets nothing. The door slams shut and she leans on it, sighing deeply.

“This is shaping up to be an interesting evening”, Kalira teases. Sylvanas rolls her eyes.

”You think? Alleria is here too, with that angelic buffoon of hers!”

”Sooo… let me get this straight. Your big sister’s boy is your bae’s classmate? Nothing wrong with that, it doesn’t make him your cousin, eh?”

”Well, it’s the… wossname”, Cyndia searches. ”Thingy. You know.”

”For being such a mature woman you sound kinda —”

”Mind that tongue, Del.”

”I should have realized the risk of inviting him here today. Oh god, _what was I thinking?_ ”

Maiev raises a hand, grinning. She seems to have recovered somewhat from whatever demon had scared her earlier. ”I have an answer to that, boss, if there’s any uncertainty.”

Sylvanas bursts into laughter. ”I mean, it’s not her son I’m boinking but the age comparison will be there now, if Alleria ever finds out. And I _really_ wasn’t planning on having a family introduction anytime soon.”

“We’ll help you.” Kalira kisses her cheek feather-lightly on her way to the dressing table.

“Yeah but… they are staying at the same hotel as us. If I recall correctly, on the same floor even. And Anduin didn’t get a room of his own...”

“Oooo. I see a spy thriller developing.”

“More like murder mystery.”

They start gathering themselves and their instruments to go, minds trying to focus, taking deep breaths. Color is draining from Maiev’s face again.

 _How the fuck am I gonna play when_ he’s _watching?_

It’s a good thing Sylvanas has enforced a total no-alcohol policy before performances or she would get _so_ drunk right now.

 

****

 

_Now I remember. That was the chick who totally tried to swim into my pants while absolutely wasted._

Illidan recalls the event well, because it was after the gig they played _My Brother’s Girlfriend_ for the first time on stage and people had gone bonkers. Sure, there had been a couple of angry reactions but mostly he remembers the three flying undies - one of them, the pink ones, had been stuck to his prop horns for the remainder of the song. It had made him grin like the demon he portrayed. He still has the items of clothing securely hidden in his personal collection.

It’s not that he doesn’t find the woman in question attractive. Quite the contrary, she’s so perfectly his type blocking her advances had been a very difficult yet ethically correct thing to do. He had tried to soothe her raging reaction but the blonde had stormed off red-eyed and shouting some diabolic nicknames for him.

How she had managed to get past the backstage security still boggled him. There had been lots of eager new fans that evening and the band had met some of them in a restricted signing event later. But Illidan hadn’t been in a playful mood anymore.

And now, here, she had looked like he was a monster from her worst nightmare. Maybe she recalled her actions as well and realized he wasn’t at all what she wanted? For some reason that thought stings nastily in him.

 _Had she been sober…_ He feels a stir in his pants and, controlling himself, decides to concentrate again on the other band he came to watch.

At the end of the break the hall is packed and whistling for the next performers to arrive. Sylvanas and the Banshees slide to the stage like sombre ghosts - though the drummer isn’t too good at hiding her grin and Sylvanas herself doesn’t look as suffering as she used to. This doesn’t bother the crowd at all, understanding middle-aged fans as most of them are.

At the first chord Illidan takes a closer look at their new guitar player who seems to be compensating for the lack of gloom in the others. Then it all dawns on him.

_I see. Well now. Sethekk is gonna be interesting as hell._

A few steps behind him the two long-haired masseurs watch Sylvanas with affection, both with their specific nuances to the feeling.

 

 

 


	6. I'll Be Picking up Your Petals in Another Few Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // More side dish and less smut this time, por favor. //

Despite both bubbling with joy and being excited for completely extramusical reasons Sylvanas has enough experience and repetition in her muscle memory, as it were, not to fail in her role. She sings the sad, melancholic as well as the more glam/new wave songs like the pro she is, immersing herself easily in the mood and feel. These sung words are her past, something she has overcome and taken control of, thus forever a meaningful part of her. It doesn’t hurt anymore to visit them.

A happy goth is not an oxymoron.

In the audience her young lover listens more her voice than the words, although he has done his homework and listened to all the Banshees’ records three times this week. Anduin tries to keep his cool but the allure of her voice takes him, and soon he’s mouthing the lyrics and swaying. Arator snickers by his side.

“And you had me believe it was your uncle, not you, who was the hardcore fan. Wanna go closer?”

“No, this is fine.” The risk of an instant boner is very real, he tries not to look into the singer’s eyes for too much. _We’ll meet later… hopefully._

Another type of fear come true is taking place not far from them. Illidan, the beastly fucker that he is, has located himself in the front of the stage, very close. For some reason the rhythm guitarist keeps to the back of the platform, sometimes even hanging around the drum set, eyes cast down. Well, it’s not uncommon, many rockers look at their fingers while playing. But Maiev is seething - she could hardly focus on her parts in the first two songs seeing the dark-haired hunk was watching her shamelessly with no discretion at all.

_The wanker dares. I’ll break his horns for this._

Fortunately she too is a professional and manages well enough when not looking at the crowd. Usually she, like all of them, gets absorbed in a sort of musical trance after a few songs and time flows through them - not fast, not slow but _right._ Well, on this occasion she’s not syncing with the cosmos at all and it’s all his fault. The gig seems to be taking ages and for the first time ever she wants the night to end soon.

Illidan can see what his presence is doing to the woman and he discovers he likes the feeling of that power. She plays well, that’s obvious, but he also notes she’s not concentrating fully and looks flustered.

_Should I have mercy on her and move away from sight?_

There’s a fast glance between them. They're only a few meters apart, so close that they can see the other's eye color. She’s both agitated and enraged under the mask of her pro performance. She tortures the guitar like it was him. His cock twitches.

_Nah._

The gig is well received with a hell of a demand for an encore which they don’t give. Some traditions should be kept intact.

Reaching the backstage, sweaty and smiling, Sylvanas finds her phone and without delay texts the address of her hotel to Anduin. They have to be sneaky like in some old comedy if they wish to meet in the flesh and she sure as hell isn’t introducing him to her _goodie_ big sister. She has finally managed to gain Alleria’s trust and respect during these sober years - this fling would probably again upset the way she sees her rogue rocker sibling.

Maiev dashes in, Kalira right behind her.

“Maiev, is everything alright? I think you missed a few notes - nothing critical, I don’t think the audience noticed, but…”

“Yeah, um… sorry. It’s really not my day today, feeling a bit off. I think I’ll hit the sack a.s.a.p.”

Sylvanas smiles at her phone and forgets to take part in the conversation. There’s a reply from the boy. He says he will try to ditch Arator once his family heads towards the backstage.

Maiev dives into a ridiculously oversized jersey and slips out of the room with a faint _bye,_ dodging the rest of the band in the doorway.

“Already going? Did you see who was in the audience?” Delaryn and Cyndia look so mischievous there’s no going around it. If she weren’t in such a hurry to get out of there she’d give a speech about how the two non-blondes of the band seem to be drawn together in an _interesting_ way. Blue and red do look good together.

“Yeah, the jerk. So?”

“Oh, you really _were_ angry about him?”

“Whatever. I’m out, see you tomorrow.” She leaves them shrugging amongst themselves.

There’s a passage out from the back through some winding corridors. An easy way out of this mess. She hesitates, ignoring Nathanos who raises his brow indifferently. There’s no door at the club end of the hallway, you can see all the way to the stage, half of the drum kit and the big curtain that’s drawn to the side. If the curtain moved, Maiev would see some of the crowd.

The temptation is real. But what would she even do? Yell at the arsewipe for practising his rights of free movement or something? Reprimand him for daring to look at the gig? _Explain herself? No way._

And then the unexpected - or expected, depends on one’s view of things like karma or providence - happens. One of the local bouncers goes past her, moves the curtain aside momentarily on his way to the club and _for fuck’s sake, there he is._ Illidan has found yet another pillar to lean onto with practiced nonchalance and aloofness. His image is so imprinted into her mind that she’d recognize him from a mile off in a blizzard. He sees her, and right before the curtain falls back blocking the view again he flashes a grin.

_What mockery is this?_

Maiev turns around abruptly and marches towards the backdoor, butterflies burning and sizzling dead in the furnace that is her lower stomach. She feels her cheeks heat up, her fingertips tingle and the racing of her heart is a joke.

_Oh, come on!_

She stays leaning her hands and head on the backdoor for ten minutes, breathing deeply, not knowing why she isn’t going already. She imagines Illidan behind her, big hands gripping her waist, moving lower, pulling her against him. She imagines his hard length pressing between her buttocks, his hand grabbing her long, high ponytail braid, tugging. She tilts her head like it was really happening, exposes her neck for his teeth that aren’t there.

Having seen him for real mere minutes ago boosts the fantasy to realistic heights. A whine that’s more a sob escapes her lips and she pulls the backdoor open violently, cursing.

_Of all the people on this planet why does it have to be him?_

She bumps right into a tall man’s broad chest.

 

*****

 

“You look like sunshine today, Syl. We might need to swap nicknames. I almost expected you to start singing romantic ballads in there.” Her older sister hugs her tightly.

“We’re the Banshees, not the Bangles, sis. This is Delaryn, our new drummer. Maiev had to leave so you won’t get to meet her after all.” The two older banshees wave their hands from the sofa - they’ve known Alleria through the years of struggle when they all helped Sylvanas to get clean and they’ve had their explosive encounters with the strong-willed and often intrusive big sis. But her part was vital in their friend’s recovery so they’re cool, just not… best friends. She nods at them. Delaryn, oblivious to all that history and baggage, jumps up and shakes Alleria’s hand.

“You look so alike, both so gorgeous! And you’re taller than her! Who are the Bangles?”

“Before your time, rookie. You wouldn’t know them”, Cyndia smirks reclining on a pile of decorative pillows, lopsided smile on her lips. “Although, they might even be your cup of tea.”

“You’re a lively one, hello. She the reason the band isn’t so gloomy anymore?” Sylvanas’ death glare prevents any slips from the drummer, barely. She looks like she’s bursting to fill everyone in with the secrets.

“I hope we were passably gloomy or we’ll lose the income. Del, this tall, handsome and blond is Turalyon.”

“Hello. No wonder your son’s so cute.” Arator grins behind them, accustomed to the praise of his face. Turalyon towers over everyone in the room but with an apologetic air tries to appear smaller, to no effect.

“Good evening, everyone. A pleasure to meet you, Delaryn. I enjoyed the concert like I did the first one, Sylvie.”

“You are starting to grow on me, the acts before you were insufferable to say the least. What’s with the masks? They were like some undead zombies yelling nonsense. It was a relief when you came to the stage.”

“Mom, grow up. I think the Phantasms were cool too.” He elbows her jovially.

“OMG what a sweet family. How come you hang out with your parents in a rock concert, Arator? Shouldn’t that be, like, totally lame? I thought you had a _friend_ with you”, Delaryn teases. Sylvanas raises a brow in warning.

“I’m 20, not 13. I like having them over, it’s so rare. They travel too much.”

“Oh. What do you do, then?”

“They have been _saving the world_ for as long as I remember. I’m sure I saw my nanny or aunt Vereesa more than them in my childhood.” There’s no bitterness in his voice, only loving teasing.

“I hope you’ve forgiven us, darling. We are with the Doctors Without Borders, if you’ve heard of them.”

“Um… I think so. That’s so cool. I also volunteer in my free time, I teach kids archery at a youth center.” Again there’s a moment of silence amongst the band when this sinks in. Their youngest member manages to surprise them almost daily.

“That’s very good of you.” Alleria smiles warmly. “Syl, we’ll have a breakfast meeting, you and I, like always? I can come over to yours and we’ll have some privacy from this lot.” Her lil’ sister heroically swallows whatever yelp was about to exit her lips and schools her goth face. The banshees have a hard time doing the same.

“The… cafeteria at the top has a nice view, how ‘bout we meet there?”

“Yeah, why not. We’re heading over, we’ll give you a lift.”

“Thanks, Ally.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You know I always will.”

 

*****

 

A young man with striking blue eyes, beautifully shaped, very kissable lips and a wheat-golden ponytail is getting a bit too much attention to his liking in the hotel bar. He tries to look as non-approachable as he can manage reading his mobile and sipping the iced tea he asked with a tiny umbrella like it was a cocktail. A third interested glance at him is accompanied by a thinly veiled attempt at flashing some thigh - he’s getting nervous again. Not because of the women - and that one guy - but because he was supposed to be as inconspicuous as possible and wait for Sylvanas in the furthest, darkest corner from the lobby doors. Those are about fifty feet away from where he sits. All this attention makes him deduce that he isn’t in fact blending in at all.

Other than that he’s ecstatic. The joy of seeing her again overwrites all anxiety, at times even the fear of getting caught by the several people in their lives who would not forever hold their peace, some of them not even two seconds.

Someone should tell him that half of his allure tonight is because he radiates such erotic aura it’s almost visible as a golden sheen. Though knowing it would hardly tone it down.

“Hello there. Are you alone?” The suggestion is clear in the woman’s low voice. It does tickle his self-esteem just a bit but he’s one of those wonderfully romantic and awkward people who are uncomfortable getting flirted at if they’re not already somewhat committed to the flirter.

“At the moment I am. I’m waiting for my date.”

“May I keep you company until she arrives? It’s a bit lonely here on my own. My name’s Magatha.” 

Anduin looks at her. She’s about 50, handsome and bold in the way she carries herself, altogether motherly in his eyes. She’s obviously had more than that one drink in her hand. _Isn’t this the moment where I say yes because I want to be nice, and then all hell breaks loose with wacky misunderstandings and me ending up falling hilariously on my face?_

“I don’t think it would be polite towards my companion if I didn’t keep her seat unoccupied, don’t you agree?” He smiles warmly, trying not to sound curt.

“Oh, what a treasure you are. Your girl is very lucky indeed.”

Anduin’s eyes catch a long blond hair in the lobby and sees Arator enter, his parents behind him. He tries to casually hide behind the woman in front of him but he’s terrible at anything like that. Both the woman and Arator notice his sad game.

And so does Sylvanas, who comes in after the family. She shifts her gaze away immediately.

“You are hiding from someone, dear? Want me to cover for you?”

Anduin shakes his head to Arator who, for once, takes heed of signs and gestures. He flashes a grin, puts his thumb up and goes about his business with even worse acting skills than his poor classmate. They all disappear into the elevator and the tortured lover sighs in relief.

“Um, thank you, ma’am. I think I’m good, though."

“Well, I wish you an enjoyable evening, young man.” With that, she returns to the bar.

_Now I only need an explanation for Arator as to why I’m here and not at the train like I led on._

 

****

 

 _“For fuck’s sake, are you blind?”_ Maiev doesn’t bother to try and reign in her rage, even though she’s barking at a totally unknown tree.

Or so she thought, for a good two seconds. She lifts her head to see who the unmoving bastard is and her heart skips a beat and a half. Her hands slowly back off from his chest that’s wrapped in a tight green t-shirt. So tight in fact that she can see the nipple piercings through it.

“You -”

“Good evening, banshee. You played very well tonight.” Illidan knows her name now, he checked it from a wiki, but he has a principle of not using anyone’s name unless they’re properly introduced. Everyone knows _his_ name though, right?

Maiev wouldn’t call him by his name. It would sound awfully lot like it was familiar to her, like she had repeated it over and over again under the cover of her blanket or something.

 _His voice, god damn it, his voice._ The deep, husky roughness of it does things to her. Illidan is not moving anywhere and she has the option of either staying there between him and the door or move away altogether. Deer in headlights have more flexible brain functions than her at the moment. She’s frozen there, gasping between rage, lust and fear. Can’t get any more elementary than that. Except if she were hungry on top of it all.

“Thought I’d _return the favor_ by visiting you in the backstage this time.” Still no answer from the very angry looking guitarist. The memories of her drunken advances at him flood her mind and all she can think of is _should I hit him or what the fuck does he mean by returning the favor?_

“How - how did - you get here?” She’s blushing. Illidan is intrigued. _She’s sober now._

“What? Oh. The bouncers remember me, we’ve played here a couple of times and some of them are fans.” He has a smug grin on his face, crossed arms bulging under the tattoos, long dark hair flowing in the breeze. It’s enough to shake Maiev just to see him this close, not to mention having just been flush against him, but… _His voice, dear mother of god, stop talking or I’ll..._

The thing is, even if she weren’t the one who started the rumor, she’d be petrified all the same. The weird and conflicting pull of her want and hate has been there from the start, or maybe it manifested itself more clearly when she saw them live about a year ago. Maiev and Sira were together in the crowd. Sira had the courage to go meet them backstage; she had gone home.

She might have been as dumbfounded there as she is now, maybe with a teensy bit less desire for violence. The other desires… well. They’ve only grown in her nursing solitude. No-one before this pompous ass has peaked her interest this much - only if it were as simple as starting to date or whatever it is that people do to get a social licence to bang.

“Ok. Bye.” She dashes past him, only wanting to disappear. A strong hand grips her arm steadily. Now his deep voice is that of a soothing radio psychologist and it almost kills her even more.

“Wait, wait. There’s no need to be ashamed.”

 _“You dare -”_ Illidan sees her explosion is very nearly upon him - and not the hot, throbbing, sticky kind he'd prefer. He releases his hold slowly but not before his fingers very lightly brush under her wrist. It has an effect, she shivers and tries to hide it.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to…” What _did_ he want to, exactly? He isn’t sure how anything in his mind could be phrased without it sounding offensive. They eye each other in silence, Maiev’s chest heaving. He’s trying to decipher her but it’s difficult. Finally she finds her hoarse voice.

“Yeah, you wanted to come gloat like an asshole. Wouldn’t have thought any better of you in any case.”

“What? No. I came to watch the bands. I had no idea you were also a musician.”

Both boots in her mouth already she doesn’t care anymore if she digs the branch she’s hanging onto or however the hell those stupid old sayings go.

“Yeah, well, now you do and you still gloated. Do you want me to lose my job, you sorry wanker?”

Illidan sees the subtle change in her and raises an eyebrow. “Why would I? Look, we’ve all done some stupid things when drunk, and before you beat me to death I apologize for bringing it up. I didn’t mean to.”

_I can’t. No, I bloody well cannot. Is he trying to be friendly?_

“Although, you did call me far worse names than a _wanker_ last time so you might want an upgrade if you aim to insult me. This choice of an epithet only makes me wonder what you’ve been thinking all this time.” The grin reveals his teeth.

 _Right. He wants his ass beat, is what he is here for._ Maiev’s quick fist almost reaches his jaw but he is fast. _He must have learned some Asian self defence or something,_ she thinks in a haze, as her other hand moves to strike like it had a mind of its own - very attuned to hers though. It’s snatched in a steel grip as well.

Yoga might have been a better choice for her temper than the kickboxing.

She struggles and Illidan locks her wrists against the door. He’s trying to stay as far from her as possible, arms extended, but he still kind of towers over her. The temptation to move closer is growing but he resists it arduously.

“Did anyone ever tell you violence doesn’t solve much?”

It’s irrelevant what he is saying now, everything’s _lost._ The position kicks in Maiev’s most shameful, most secret fantasy of him and she’s paralyzed with lust - and fear of being found out about it. She barely stops her hips from jerking as the images of him grinding against her flood her mind.

In a surprising fit of clairvoyance Illidan sees the tip of the volcano that is Maiev’s condition. It’s highly contagious, he’s set ablaze by it within seconds. His lips open in a soft deep inhalation, his heartbeat speeds up and his cock swells in his combat trousers. For a terrifying, enchanting moment their eyes connect and they both _know._

Illidan steps back and releases her. This is serious. And just a bit scary.

“I apologize.” He backs away further and a small whine escapes her lips. They survey each other for a heartbeat, then he rips himself from the spell and leaves the backyard. Maiev just groans and tries to calm her breathing. It’s a good thing her jersey covers her like a tent. Her pants are soaked.

_What the hell just happened?_

A situation this complicated shouldn’t be rushed. The gorgeous and temperamental woman obviously needs space and time to come round with her feelings. Right then and there Illidan realizes he wants to pursue her - _so_ _bad_ \- but he’s going to leave that to her instead. It wouldn’t work any other way, he’d get his nose smashed in if he were the aggressor.

_Let her come after me._

His balls are going to be so blue he’ll need an extra hour at the hotel gym.

 

****

 

It’s been thirty minutes since Sylvanas, pretending to be dead tired, had excused herself and left for her own hotel room. Her sister’s family is located two doors down, across the corridor. It’s not as bad as it could have been, but it requires some elaborate planning and sneaking. She texts Anduin that she’ll come and meet him in the bar. It would be unfair to leave him to find his way up alone and brave bumping into her relatives.

Heart pounding she checks through the peephole and then silently exits her room, heading for the stairs. _Oh, how I’ve missed this._

Arator can’t curb his curiosity, he wants to go ask Anduin what he is up to. _I can always vanish smoothly if he has company._ He leaves the two bedroom suite telling his parents he’s getting ‘a cola or something’. Just as he’s closing the door behind him he sees aunt Sylvie slipping through the staircase door at the end of their corridor.

 _Why’d she use the stairs, not the elevator? Why sneak?_ She was supposed to go to sleep. There’s nothing open except the bar… and she’s a recovering addict.

He’s not completely sure why, but he silently follows his aunt.

 

 


	7. Kill the King with Love is the Law

 

Unaware of her shadow Sylvanas of the Banshees steps into the hotel bar and immediately spots Anduin at the back. His unusually golden hair is like a beacon and she chuckles to herself thinking how the poor boy had tried to blend into the dark walls earlier. There had been some lady chatting him up and she just has to tease him about it later.

She walks towards him and his eyes light up. He can’t help his gaze moving along her body especially with the sensual predatory sway she has going on. He’s not the only one whose head turns. It’s a real skill to do a proper catwalk in army boots.

“Little lion.”

“Hi.” His smile fills his whole face.

“I’m sorry you had to wait for so long. My family were being clingy.”

“It’s OK.” He wants to say how happy he is to see her but he’s busy collecting his jaw from the floor. She stands there beside his table and makes his cock throb just by looking like that, hip tilted, smiling with a purpose. The power over his senses and admiration is intoxicating, and Sylvanas is thirsty for more.

Arator sneaks into the lobby and sees them from afar. He’s about to march right in and declare something jolly about fans stalking the hotel but then a small detail stops him on his tracks. He sidesteps behind a pillar at the bar entrance and looks closer. His aunt has always been the black sheep of the family and he accepts her behaving seductively now that she’s in her own world, so to speak, but the scene in front of his eyes is still somewhat puzzling. Anduin was totally shy, so much so that he hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to go to the backstage again; he had respected that, some people just can’t handle the radiance of stardom. But now his classmate looks uncharacteristically relaxed and nearly _familiar_ in Sylvanas’ company, even if totally starstruck judging by the shine in his eyes. He can’t hear what they’re saying but both of them talk, it’s not just his auntie teasing a young panicked fan.

Speaking of which - isn’t this kind of peculiar of her too? Where is the people-avoiding bookworm who hates small talk that Arator is used to from their few family gatherings? Or is it just that the underworld of rock’n’roll is really more her home than her blood relatives’ house?

Sylvanas extends her hand and Anduin takes it, stands up and lets her lead him around a corner into a shady passageway leading to the restrooms, with a doorway to the lobby.

_What?_

Arator follows them carefully, stays behind a huge fake plant and peeks. He almost reveals himself spying by a yelp he barely stops in his throat. His aunt is leaning flush against his classmate, pinning him on the wall and… kissing him so hotly the nephew feels steam rising under his collar after thirty seconds of the initial shock. Anduin’s hands are on her waist, not a shy grip at all, sliding lower. His face is flushed but he doesn’t look out of place or baffled. The manner in which Sylvanas holds his neck is almost possessive. Her fingers glide into his hair and Arator winces at seeing their tongues in the devouring kiss.

_Oh no. OH. NO. What have I done?!_

They are getting so into it that Arator has to back off for decency’s sake - and he certainly isn’t a prude. Leaning on the wall he tries to calm his racing mind and heart. Glancing down he groans.

_Oh, give me a break! That’s my aunt in there!_

“Sir? Could I see your ID, please? I’m afraid we do not serve for minors here.”

 

*****

 

Out of Arator’s hearing Sylvanas breaks the kiss, moaning softly. Every inch of their bodies that is possible to be connected in public without the fear of some penalty is flush against the other. His erection is trapped between them and she’s refrained from grinding against it - much. The waves of pleasure wash over her by their mere closeness and his heavenly kissing. Her thighs are completely slick under the dress.

“Oh, this is definitely your calling.”

“What, I thought you liked the massaging more.”

“I’m taking _everything_ you’ll give me, little lion. In fact, I’ve a mind to make you _kneel_ before me tonight.”

“Wha--” and then he gets it, and his cock throbs and a whine escapes his swollen lips. They have not yet done that even though _she_ had used her mouth on him several pleasurable times. The thought makes him dizzy with want but also wakes his nervousness again.

Her grey eyes scan his young face and she notices his uncertainty. Well, there’s only one way to cure that. She nips his lower lip playfully between her teeth and takes a step back.

“Let’s go up?”

_“Yes.”_

They walk past the restrooms towards the stairs. A burly Afro-American man with tattoos on his arms steps wobbling into the bar they just left, leans on the counter, burps and orders a beer. He’s humming his favorite Banshees song. Magatha studies him from a corner table.

The sneaking part turns out to be easy and no relative saw either of the secret lovers - or so they think. Once in Sylvanas’ room they half embrace, half walk stumbling and undressing each other, giggling and kissing. She places the key card in the slot while her other hand pulls his t-shirt over his head.

“No bright yellow this time? It didn’t help, your golden mane is like a lighthouse.” The boy laughs.

The night stand lights light up like she had arranged - cozy and not too bright. Anduin decides to take the lead and playfully pushes her on the bed once she’s in an acceptable state of undress. She laughs breathlessly, glad they’ve found this level of closeness and trust so fast. The tension coils inside her when the young man calmly peels her stockings off, his blue eyes on hers. Her legs up leaning on his chest he smiles peeking between her ankles that he’s holding.

“Would you like me to rub your feet, madam?”

“Oh, you _dare._ Maybe later?”

“That’s odd, I specifically recall you liking this…” His hands take hold of her calves and slide with the familiar strong grip down towards her knees. She mewls.

“Oh, you... “ She gives in, for the moment. Anduin grins, pleased, and lowers himself to his knees at the end of the bed to reach her thighs. _Yes, little lion, I’ve got you right where I wanted you._

Once his healing hands have taken him close enough she entwines her legs around his torso and yanks herself towards the edge of the bed. Her voice is husky.

“Go on, undress me.” She only has her panties on. He obeys, slowly pulling the black lace item off, up her legs that she raises towards the ceiling again. He slides his warm palms down the backs of her legs, kneeling before her, leaving them cupping her bum, head between her thighs. She places her feet down on the bed. Her scent is driving him all bonkers. Watching the lust on his face makes the slow game all the sweeter for her.

Brushing his dry lips down her inner thigh he nears her center until he’s so close that she can feel his breath there, then he moves abruptly to the other side and starts over. She inhales and the boy hears impatience in it. Slowly he lowers his face into her dark curls, inhaling, hesitant but eager. His nose sweeps over her hooded clit and she gasps.

“Just play, little lion. I’ll let you hear how I like it.”

Trembling with want Anduin licks her once, deeply, opening her nether lips, tasting how slick she is. They both moan and he dives in. He’s good at transferring knowledge between different segments of his experience and the thoroughness of a masseur starts guiding the exploration of his tongue. Every time she jolts or whines he repeats what he just did. It results in a delightful loop of cause and effect. That combined with her grabbing his hair and adjusting the pressure soon makes her frantic with euphoria. He devours her with a keenness she’s never had in a lover, worshipping her with his mouth until she reaches the levels of gods _._ She loses the grip, falls on the pillows and twitches against his face dissolving into pleasure.

“Yes, yes, _yes…”_

Never had she dared anything so bossy and _wonderful_ with Arthas. Anduin almost joins in her orgasm, just barely withholding his own release. He doesn’t have to restrain himself for long - he’s pulled up and issued an order with flaming eyes.

“Come inside. Now.”

Cheeks flushed pink he obeys without missing a beat. “Yes, ma’am”, he teases, voice gravelly and thick. She welcomes him in her embrace and their hungry lips meet as he slides inside her still pulsating warmth. She moans against his mouth and crosses her legs around his waist, urging him on. His thrusts start her ascension again and they melt into each other in a heated rhythm.

Behind Sylvanas’ hotel room door Arator, the concerned relative not so sure about his motivations anymore, presses a hand tightly over his mouth and whimpers.

_I can’t tell mom. She’ll flip._

 

*****

 

Maiev Shadowsong is about to flip. The confusion and chaos in her feelings would be enough to bear on its own, handled with a variety of activities, distractions and denials. Smashing enemies and doing daily dungeons in Realm of Battlecraft might help some, but she can’t play her Crusader all day, every day. She has managed to limit masturbating to that one time last night but that holds off the nervous longing only for a short while.

And now it seems she’s being targeted online.

_OK, that was an exaggeration._

The morning after the gig, after _the clash,_ she finds out she has a new follower on Instagram. Maiev doesn’t post much, lately she’s put up only some pics from their rehearsals before the tour and now from these two performances - a couple of hashtags and no other text, she likes to be brief and enigmatic. Or she just doesn’t care that much about chatting or whatever. She does that elsewhere.

Normally she would merely shrug at a random follower but this user is named _Horngod_ and in her current state even a corny play on words like that makes her mind conjure up disturbing images. Checking the account there’s a heck load of cat pictures - _what the F_ \- but also close-ups of an unmistakably recognizable bass guitar. Long-nailed fingers (the non-dominant hand is trimmed) playing; process pics where the instrument is decorated with glowing green paint. Going backwards she finds the making of the horn props. For some reason there’s not a single photo of the person’s face. Enigmatic like her. But she knows it’s him. It has to be.

Maiev does not _follow_ in return. But she’s been looking at his pictures hungrily for hours, like she could find some relief, some solution to her dilemma in them.

The fucker has _liked_ all her pictures.

Browsing back and forth she notices there’s a new video just in from assumed Illidan. The knowledge of him posting it somewhere, right at this moment, makes her tremble - like he had a way of seeing her there, catch her spying. Or like his fingers would touch hers through the cyberspace. The phone almost drops on the bed.

It’s a short clip, again a close-up of _someone_ playing the green-defiled black bass. She taps the sound on and for a while just watches the fingers moving, mesmerized. Their movements send electric jolts through her, caressing her. She stifles any sounds from her throat, stubborn yet still greedy for more.

And then she recognizes the tune he’s playing. It’s the part in The Banshees’ opening song that she almost screwed up last night because of him. A very simple, repetitive melody - easy for another musician to pick up.

_Right. The bastard is so dead._

She had even left her precious guitar in the grubby hands of Nathanos, so shaken had she been after the torturous concert, and the chance meeting after that left her catatonic. A small voice is trying to persuade her into remembering consciously what she now knows, but she isn’t prepared for that, not yet, maybe never. The voice has more power in the wee hours of the night.

Suppressing the burning urge to touch herself and just watch the video loop she jumps up angrily to head to the gym. It’s time to kick and hit some unfortunate boxing bag with his face imagined on it.

 

*****

 

“Thanks, man”, Illidan chuckles and drops the phone into the side pocket of his army pants. He’s back home from the trip, in time to mold his Illidari into perfection for the next week’s concert (or, like he prefers to call them, _battle)._ They are performing at a club in his home town - Karabor Temple is _the_ place in Shadowmoon Valley.

“No problem, mate. What was that, a new song? Sounded a bit… different.” Diplomacy is Altruis’ highest skill after the playing of a two-headed dragon guitar. That is - _he_ calls it a Nether Dragon. No-one is sure why.

“Nah, just some inside joke to a ...pal.”

“Right, right. Good stuff.”

Their leader has been in a weird mood since he got back from the continent. He’s always been very easily riled and enthusiastic, very deep in either joy or depression. But now he seems almost… happy? No, not exactly happy, but something tasting like it. Exhilarated or excited, somehow. He whips them like he usually does, commands relentlessly and with a clear result in sight, but now he also smiles and laughs to himself, checking the phone more often than before which means _at all;_ and he declares very few ostentatious things during practice. It’s almost as if he’d grown up a little.

Or maybe he is just distracted by something or _someone_ and doesn’t need their attention like he used to. There are hushed conversations at the lunch break before he joins them.

“I say it’s a new girl.”

“Could be a boy too.”

“Dream on, Vashj. You and your yaoi fantasies.”

“It’s a perfectly realistic assumption.” The keyboardist flips her long, multi-colored dreadlocks in an annoyed way. Altruis is always against her ideas. _Typical Scorpio._

“I didn’t know much about him before joining you, but I had a feeling he was still pining for... you know…” Sira has heard the rumors as well.

“Doesn’t seem like that anymore. If it were something to do with money, a new opportunity, anything to do with the music - he would tell us right away.”

“Yeah, he can’t keep his mouth shut at all, even if the thing is still only an idea.”

Altruis looks conspiratorial, glances at the doorway and leans closer. “Also, there’s like a week to the gig, right, and he wanted me to learn this new melody, says it’s a surprise to everyone - I’ve no idea if it’s a new song or -” He stops abruptly hearing the creaking of the stairs.

The harbinger of the end of their break looms in the downstairs doorway mobile phone in hand. He seems to be contemplating something. The band looks at him, waiting for the call.

“Right. Yes. Are you ready, crew?”

They glance at each other, sharing an astonishment for Illidan’s lack of theatrics.

 

*****

 

It seems to be of no consequence that she doesn’t drink alcohol anymore. Sylvanas wakes up on Saturday noon with a hangover. Or something resembling it. Twenty years ago she could have partied until morning, drinking and smoking, and be cured by dozing into the afternoon and then ordering a pizza. That changed after Arthas though, the new substance brought nightmares and a very wrong sleeping cycle.

_There’s one other cure for this I could test, though._

The tingling infatuation they seem to share with the young man has worked like the best stimulant so far.

Despite the shakiness she otherwise feels well rested. Having no recollection of what happened after their beautiful coupling she sits up searching for Anduin. Then she hears the shower running and grins.

It’s a good thing the hotel room has the shower and toilet separate. Brushing her teeth she spends a while looking at her reflection and concludes that the glow of this affair has made her look younger. When she’s ready she goes to the shower door and sees it’s left half open, invitingly. Still, her own need for privacy on many a weird trivial thing dictates her to at least knock, every time.

”Hey - come in!”

Her lover smiles brightly, golden hair slicked back and wet like he were some kind of dandy salesperson. The image makes Sylvanas giggle, it does not fit at all. She pulls off the top that was serving as a nightie making her tangled ivory locks even messier. She lets her panties drop onto the floor and steps into the bathtub where he’s standing under the shower.

“Did I just pass out from pleasure last night or why can’t I remember anything?” She slides her hands on his back, over his beautiful ass and squeezes. He chuckles.

“You sounded almost coherent for two sentences and then you just… dropped. I tucked you in, had something to eat from the fridge and slept on the sofa.”

“Oh, you could have stayed if I was already asleep. Next time, do.” The promise of a _next time_ gives them both a warm feeling.

Anduin turns around and Sylvanas leans on his chest, gently holds his face between her hands and kisses him deeply. His face is wet and everything slides and slips in a delicious way. The young man smiles devilishly into the kiss and leaning backwards makes her move under the shower too. She expected as much, he’s become a bit of a teaser lately. After the first time she made sure not to have makeup on when joining him in the bath. The adoration in his eyes didn’t seem to diminish seeing her naked of the cosmetics, so she shrugged and was all the happier for it.

She leans even further, making him bump against the cold tiles and fall away from the water’s reach. He’s fully erect and his cock jolts delightfully every time she rubs her belly against it.

“It’s like you wanted me to punish you, young man.”

“Who, me? I don’t know what - _ohhh--”_ Her hand grabs his warm, hard member and slides a thumb over the tip.

“No?” She drops to her knees on the rubber rug in the bathtub and tastes his pre-cum among all the water running on her. The boy moans and reaches up for the shower-head, turning it so the water falls to their side. Sylvanas loves to take him into her mouth, the weight of it on her tongue, the responses she gets immediately in the form of throbbing; with Anduin it’s not her serving him but she’s the one controlling his feelings through the act. It makes her throb in sync and she always ends up moaning herself when sucking him. The low vibration of her voice on his cock intensifies everything even further for him.

When she feels he’s very, very near the edge she grips the base of his shaft tightly, slides her lips slowly off him and stops. Realizing she does indeed intend to punish him he groans.

“Sylvanas--”

Calmly she gets up and smiles in a mischievous manner. “Take the soap.” He does as he is told and she turns around. He starts soaping her shoulders and upper back, counting backwards and trying to calm himself, smiling through the suffering - he loves this as well, touching her all over with a substance slippery enough to let him fall into the practice of his future profession. He goes through every limb and body part, ending kneeled in front of her - again. Anduin glances up and sees her smile, chest heaving.

“May I?” He plays the gentleman and the submissive knowing she takes pleasure in it. His strong fingers press on her calf muscle and she nods. It proves almost impossible to keep standing upright when his hands massage her slippery soaped legs and his nose keeps “accidentally” bumping onto her mound. But she endures, trembling, for a while. His erection doesn’t lose any of its vigor, she watches as it bobs, stiff and horizontal, and sometimes touches her leg.

Having softened her calves into pulp the masseur slowly gets up. His hands grip her buttocks and his cock slots neatly between her thighs, pressing against her labia, waiting patiently. Sylvanas leans into his chest, squeezes the beloved body part between her thighs, keeping it on the gates but not yet letting in. He hums and starts working her backside. Every slick movement presses them against each other, makes his length play her clitoris like a single string of a violin. Soon she’s as soft and done like the muscles he’s kneading, whining at each touch.

Anduin is so close to exploding he decides to brave a more commanding move. He turns her around gently and feeling only compliance from her washes the soap from her back and thighs and closes the tap. She places her hands on the shower wall and leans her breasts and cheek on it, sighing, opening her thighs, tilting her hip.

”God, Sylvanas…”

He grabs her waist and guides himself on her entrance, slowly pushing in, watching how he sinks into her. He fills her completely and moans at the perfect feeling, knowing he’ll last only a very short time. But time bends differently for the lovers and the moment feels like a dip into a timeless dreamgrove.

”Go on,” she whispers and lowers her hand on her swollen bud. Holding her hips with both hands he thrusts, intoxicated of her. He slides an inch out and then back in deep, and her fingers need only to press _just so_ and she’s flying. Hearing her, feeling her he joins in both, releasing inside her with a dizzying force.

Embracing and panting they stay there for a moment, knees trembling. Anduin’s hands caress her belly and breasts. He gently bites her elbow and she gasps at the feel, still wonderfully sensitive. He pulls out slowly and his fluids leaking down her thighs makes Sylvanas giggle. She takes the shower-head and washes them both, grinning like a silly person.

“I’m starving. You?”

“Yeah - _ah-!”_

“Oh, sorry, still sensitive. There’s the food I ordered yesterday in the fridge, why don’t we --”

There’s a knock on the door. They both freeze. Then she whispers, cursing.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake… Alleria. I forgot.”

“Your… sister?”

“Yeah. We agreed to meet for breakfast. She has probably called but my phone was muted. Um. Is it OK you stay here and I try to get out with her as soon as possible? I’m so sorry, Anduin.”

“It’s alright. I don’t feel ready for a family meeting either.” He smiles warmly and they share a quick kiss. She dries off on a towel on her way to the door but then turns around midway and hurriedly gathers Anduin’s clothes and bag with her, heart racing. She takes them to the bathroom.

“You eat whatever you like, OK? I’ll be back in a few hours. Text me if there’s anything.” She closes the door.

_“Coming!”_

Wrapped in the white towel Sylvanas opens the hotel room door. “I’m sorry, sis. My phone was on silent, you must have called. I overslept.”

“Fine. I was afraid you’d called it off on your own.” Alleria steps in and Sylvanas, noticing to her horror her young lover’s sneakers are still near the door kicks them stealthily under the shoe rack while guiding her older sister further into the room.

“Why on earth would I? I’m just not as young as I used to be, is all. I feel like a wreck, and I drank only tea and water last night.”

“Yeah, I guess singing and staying up late can do that too. Should we stay in?”

“I’d prefer the penthouse café, you know I love hotel breakfasts. I won’t be a minute.” True enough, she’s faster than ever dressing up casually in a t-shirt and jeans, tying her unbrushed hair on a messy bun and pulling on her boots.

“You’re going like that?”

“Why not?”

“Last time I saw you go out in public without any makeup on must have been - let’s see - when you were thirteen.”

“I might be old enough for this now.”

Trembling, his ear against the locked bathroom door Anduin hears the door click behind the sisters. He listens for some minutes before daring to exhale in relief. Pulling on his boxers he checks the phone. There’s a message from uncle Baine.

_“Hello my boy. I saw the Banshees again last night in Khaz Modan. And I saw your doppelganger in the crowd too heh heh I guess I was more drunk than I thought, you’re probably not here? Head feels like it too. Heading for the hotel breakfast upstairs. Hope you’re doing fine, we haven’t talked much since the gig. Hugs from your uncle.”_

_Yeah, about that..._

 

 


	8. Run Around in the Radiation

 

Shower-fresh and grinning giddily Anduin rummages through the hotel room refrigerator and collects a towerlike stash of foodstuff on his lap. He takes them all to the table and humming starts making sandwiches, slicing fruit and brewing tea.

In the midst of his breakfast he gets a text and a photo from Baine. Some part of him was prepared for this - parts of him are already getting ready for awkward family meetings - but he still sort of swallows his tea the wrong way. In the pic there’s his uncle, looking stupidly happy and hungover, taking a selfie with none other than his youth idol Sylvanas of the Banshees. Sylvanas looks amused and as beautiful as always, having no make-up makes her seem fragile and not at all like a rockstar, really.

_“She is here in the same hotel! I dared to ask her, very politely mind you, and she talked to me for a while and gave my wallet an autograph. I didn’t have anything else on me and her sister borrowed us a pen. And we shook hands!! She’s very nice. Now your uncle can die in peace :D”_

Anduin starts laughing at Baine’s expression and the face Sylvanas’ sister is making behind them, about to roll her eyes.

 _This is getting too close, we might as well just tell everyone… except Genn. And Jaina. Nope nope, not them._ Well, at least now he has a photo of her he doesn’t have to hide.

There’s a knock on the door and he’s startled out of his wits. _Who could it be? Should I open? What if it’s one of her relatives?_

Eventually Anduin decides to act like a mature human being and hides in the bathroom. He hears the door open and his heart drums in his throat like Delaryn at her best. Slowly he opens the door half an inch and peeks through. It’s the cleaning lady. He starts breathing again.

“Hi, sorry, I was…” he points awkwardly towards the bathroom he came from.

“Good morning, sir. Sorry, no english.” She looks at the young man with a question on her face, and with a friendly smile he gestures her to continue her work.

“Yes, please, don’t mind me.” He’s feeling _very_ uncomfortable, not being the official occupant of the room. _Should I leave? Usually people are in the breakfast room at this hour._ He’s aware that most of the cleaners are paid by the work they’ve done and asking her to skip their room would diminish her probably already too low salary. _I need to remember to leave a tip._

Watching an unknown person change their sheets however forces the decision and Anduin takes his blushing face out of the room. He grabs his bag and phone on the way and mumbles something about stepping outside for a spell.

“It’s either Lady Sun or Ally, you decide. And I saw you eyerolling behind us so don’t pull any big sister cards on me.”

“I’ll never get used to unfamiliar people wanting to take your picture but of course it’s a good thing. Your fans seem like a reasonable lot, he was very cute in his restrained swooning.”

“Har har.”

“I’m serious. Seeing you made his day.”

The Windrunner family is getting out of the elevator. The sisters step out first, Turalyon and Arator behind them. Suddenly Sylvanas trips and almost loses her balance.

_Anduin!_

He’s not three meters from them, leaning on the corridor wall. The _ding_ of the lift makes him look up from his phone and his already pink cheeks darken even more. His lips open in an inhale but he manages to turn his eyes back towards the gadget. With the best of his abilities he pretends like he’s just a bystander.

“You ok, Syl?” Alleria takes hold of her immediately.

“Yeah... I think the espresso was a mistake.” She glances behind her. Arator sees a worried, almost fearful look flash on her face. She knows he’s supposed to think Anduin went home. There’s no way of preventing the encounter, the narrow straight corridor forces them to walk past her secret lover if they are to get to the family’s room. Her nephew’s brows furrow at her and then he sees his classmate ahead. He opens his mouth.

“Ah, the tyranny of the cleaning ladies - we can’t go in the rooms yet.” There are two carts of towels and cleaning equipment in the passage and some of the room doors are open.

“Don’t be rude. It’s their job. And you can’t know if they’re all ladies.”

“I was just kidding, mom, I didn’t mean it in any bad way.” Walking slowly they pass Anduin, all nodding to him like one does to strangers in narrow spaces, and he gets ready to defend himself to Arator - and along with him to the whole family. He looks so helpless and nervous his classmate almost feels sorry for him. He lets the other boy suffer for a few more seconds, then pokes Sylvanas in front of him.

 _“It’s ok, auntie._ I didn’t mind you two wanting some privacy.” She glances behind her and Arator winks like a cartoon character. Passing poor red-faced Anduin who’s still a perfect nobody to the doctor couple walking ahead of them he elbows him in the stomach, gently enough not to draw a yelp but enough to make him expect _interesting times_ on Monday at school. He manages to do all this before his mother turns her head.

“You know, at breakfast. Me and dad were fine just the two of us.” Turalyon grunts an absentminded agreement and goes back to his meditative musings. He does that a lot. Sylvanas exhales.

“Now you are being silly, darling. You make it sound like we were plotting something with Syl. I’m afraid your birthday isn’t near enough for any of that.”

“And you forget I grew up while you were abroad. You and dad being here is all the birthday present I need.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, son”, his father beams.

“Ally, your family is so awfully sweet I need to go and brush my teeth now.” She makes a mental note to get her nephew the best souvenir in all existence when the band travels to Terokkar. She flashes him a grateful smile and the boy nods, solemn. Their room is ready and the family goes in.

“Will you come see us off, Syl?”

“Yeah, I’ll just go get my jacket… um… gimme five minutes.” When Alleria closes their door Anduin wakes up like a summoned golem from his stupor and dashes through the door Sylvanas is holding open. The cleaning lady gets a good tip on her way out.

 _“That went smoothly.”_ She bursts into laughter and hugs the young man.

“I was so dead and horrified I wished the ground had swallowed me.”

“Arator kind of saved us there. Have you told him about us?”

“No, I thought you had when he didn’t expose me.”

“Well, this is curious. Are you OK here for a bit, I’ll see them off and then we… don’t have to sneak anymore.”

“Um, about that…There’s... something. I’ll tell you when you get back.” Sylvanas feels a nasty jolt in her gut, a heavy mix of fear and disappointment and sadness, and it must be apparent on her face as well seeing Anduin’s worried and loving smile.

“No, no, nothing bad, just… something similar to what just happened. Go on, I’ll be here.”

She kisses him so deeply he is panting by the time she has to leave.

 

*****

 

“You seem exceptionally cheerful today if you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Stormrage. Have you fallen in love?” The old man in a wheelchair sounds like a crow having a permanent case of flu. They are on his afternoon walk, his personal care assistant is taking him through the park near his residence. Before that Illidan did his grocery shopping and in the evening the other assistant comes to cook.

“Now that you mention it, I might just have.”

“Really? Do share.” Mr. Akama has always enjoyed long philosophical conversations but personal gossip is his second favorite. “Is it a fan? Those could turn out troublesome.”

Illidan laughs dryly. “No, she’s definitely not a fan. On the contrary. She seems to… hate me for some reason. Or at least she gets annoyed every time we meet.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t let yourself pine for someone completely out of reach, boy. It only leads to heartache.”

“Fortunately that’s not the case, Mr. Akama. I can say with certainty that she in fact finds me attractive.”

“So you’ve been on a date then?”

“No, no. We’ve only met a couple of times by accident. She plays in a band too. I… don’t think we are the sort of people who could ever go on dates.”

 _We wouldn’t waste time on social charades like those. Unless a date meant meeting in a boxing ring._ Suddenly he has a vision of Maiev sitting triumphantly astride his hips while he’s lying on his back, long sweaty blond hair tickling his bare chest after a fight that has exhausted them both. He has to stop his imaginings for fear of embarrassing himself in public. Fantasies like this just pop in his head unannounced.

“Well, big guy, confess to your elder. What did you do to deserve her wrath?”

“I didn’t. Or if I did I have no knowledge of it and I probably wasn’t even present. It’s a… complicated and long story. But she’s gorgeous and temperamental and a damn fine guitar player.” It’s so much easier to talk to Mr. Akama than anyone else.

His employer chuckles to himself until Illidan stops the wheelchair and peeks over the old man’s shoulder. “What?”

“I can see why you fancy her. You two seem very much alike.”

“...oh.”

Earlier that day the bandleader had been at the gym with Altruis. Again the guitarist was forced to take part in his social media shenanigans and film him.

“You know I don’t really agree with this whole masculine parading. I see some people here spend more time taking belfies than actually exercising, don’t tell me you too just care about the looks.”

“My friend, we aren’t disagreeing really. A part of this is undeniably for aesthetic reasons, but I also like to feel strong and able. And this video is…”

“... an inside joke to a pal?” The snide in his voice had made Illidan stop and place the weights on the stand. _Am I really this transparent?_

“Yeah. I’ll introduce you once we’re on speaking terms.”

He had posted the video immediately after taking a shower at the gym, sitting on the locker room bench a towel wrapped around his hips. He was grinning like a schoolboy who had just hid a living frog in the bag of the cutest girl in the class.

He has no proof whatsoever that she sees his posts but for some reason he’s sure of it. She hasn’t followed him or liked any of his pics, and who knows if she gets so many alerts a day his following might have been overlooked. But something tells him this isn’t so. The tingling on his fingertips and the purring feeling in his loins testify of a connection between them.

And what do you know, his hubris is right. Maiev sees a glimpse of the video on her way home - she’s constantly checking his account and feeling mortified because of it - and she shuts the screen immediately, pushing the mobile into her pocket and speeding up her pace. Her heart races and colors her cheeks with freshly circulated blood. Once safely inside she crams her groceries into the fridge in the plastic bag without bothering to sort them. She pulls her jersey over her head and throws it angrily on a recliner chair. Flumping on it she takes the phone back in her trembling hands.

In the video there’s mister HornGod, assumed, pumping iron at the gym. Maiev snorts and rolls her eyes, yet cannot look away. He’s doing pecs on a bench and the camera focuses to a close-up of his biceps from the side and behind his shoulder. She can’t see his face, but the long, almost black hair is visible at times and the black-green tribal tattoos are unmistakably Illidan’s - he’s been enough times topless on stage for her to know them by heart. And it’s not only her heart that’s pulsating at the sight.

Hands shaking Maiev taps on the sound. She is not sure if she regrets that she did so. Was she expecting music? She doesn’t care as her right hand opens her jeans and slips onto her clitoris. There’s no point in abstinence; she’s alone, painfully horny and no-one will know. So, fuck it.

The video is almost a minute long and it loops automatically. He is doing the exercise slowly and the weight doesn’t seem to be stupidly heavy, just good enough to make the biceps and pectoral muscles bulge ...and him grunt and groan audibly with every push. There’s background noise, the clinks and thuds and talking, but she can hear him inhale and exhale.

The asshole is doing it _perfectly,_ right on the verge of being obscene yet if questioned, it’d be considered innocent. At the end of the video he whispers _“...Yeah...”_ and that’s especially duplicitous. And effective on her.

_The slippery bugger, just like in all his interviews._

What’s even more slippery is her quim. Maiev watches as his sweaty muscles tighten and relax, the tattoos seemingly moving and changing shape, locks of dark hair slip down from his shoulder. She moans as she sees him on top of her, the groaning and the motions of his limbs now having a different reason, a different goal that also requires repetitive movements to a point… Her fingers circle on and around her slick pearl and she’s burning, gasping at the force of her arousal when she imagines sinking her nails into those thick arms while he bites her shoulder and thrusts into her with vigor that matches her lustful rage.

She drops the phone beside her on the chair and lets his erotic, deep noises guide her to her climax. When she hears his hoarse “yeah” the fifth time she’s gone with a moan, hips jerking, nipples erect like they’d been tortured.

Exhaling, her anxiety washed away, she reclines the back of the comfy chair down and considers taking a nap.

_How triumphant he would feel if he only knew._

Hundreds of miles to the west Illidan is walking home and grinning all the way.

 

*****

 

Returning to the hotel Sylvanas smiles to herself. Alleria has always been her secret idol, being so level-headed and ambitious yet directing that towards doing good in the world. It’s a relief knowing that her therapy is going well, her PTSD from the war zones is slowly lessening its grip and she doesn’t hear voices in her head that much anymore. Her help in Sylvanas’ recovery was paramount; if she could do anything for her big sister, she would.

They had talked about Vereesa, how the boys had grown and how Rhonin’s assignment would continue until the end of this year. Then they would come back home. Alleria had shown pictures of the redheaded twins - they had grown so much she wondered where the years had gone.

The sad part is Sylvanas couldn’t confide in her about the recent development in her love life. It will be inevitable in the future, but right now she doesn’t want to face the stress and possibility of not being accepted. She wants to keep this happiness for as long as it’s possible. She didn’t have any other explanation for her present glow and the lightness of her gait - so it felt like deceiving her sister, dodging and derailing the conversation. Otherwise they had a lovely hour and a half together, and that fan had a perfect timing with his request.

Back in the hotel room she finds Anduin in the kitchen. He’s doing what seems like going through the trash and his smile does have an apologetic flavor.

“What is it, little lion? You got peckish?”

“No, I… well. This is a pet peeve of mine, I’m sorry.” Having finished what he was doing he closes the trash cabinet. “There are separate bins for biological waste and energy waste. You had plastics and banana peels in the same one.” He’s visibly squirming, afraid she’ll get upset of his critique.

Sylvanas bursts into a hearty laughter. “Oh, you treehugger, we have nothing to fear. Alleria will love you for that after the initial shock of thinking I’ve defiled you.” He grins, relaxing. “I promise to try and pay attention to my trash from now on. Now please, tell me what you were about to say, I’m dying to know.”

Wanting to skip the long explanation Anduin fishes his phone from his pocket, opens it and after a few clicks shows the photo to her. She’s baffled for a moment, paranoia stirring.

“How--”

“You met my uncle.”

There’s silence when their eyes meet and then they both laugh for a minute straight until tears fall on their faces and Sylvanas is holding her tummy, cramping.

“It’s not going to be my wild youth that’ll sell my memoirs”, she gasps between howls. Anduin recovers first.

“Baine doesn’t know I’m here. He’s the one who dragged me into that first concert.” A warm smile spreads across the singer’s face.

“I will have to thank him one day once he’s done wanting to torch me for witchcraft. Were you kicking and screaming?”

“Not really. You know I had listened to all your records in my childhood - that too was Baine’s doing. He’s such a cool guy, I’m sure... “ He stops. They haven’t talked about the relationship before, there has been no need. The feeling they share has overwhelmed any questions and uncertainties. Anduin looks at her and realizes she too mentioned Alleria possibly liking him, just now. She raises her brow.

“...eventually he would be OK with… this.” _He might be a teensy bit jealous, though._

“Speaking of your uncle. Remember that lady chatting you up in the bar last night?”

“Yeah?” A moment’s delay followed by a wide grin. “No!”

“They were having breakfast together. I heard him explain who I was in a very thoroughly platonic manner, emphasizing his youth and our music.”

“Oh, that’s _wonderful._ He’s been alone for years. He didn’t tell me when he texted about going up for breakfast.”

“Maybe he thinks you disapprove casual sex.” She inclines her head, teasing.

“As far as he knows I might have. I really hope it grows into more than that.” Anduin’s perspective has widened a lot since. He comes closer to her and puts his hands on her narrow waist. Time to be brave again. “And if it wasn’t clear to you before, I’m offering more as well.”

Sylvanas is surprised by the force of emotion that hits her. Butterflies gather and explode in her tummy and fighting back the tears is futile. She inhales sharply and tries to look away but then stops herself. _It’s not a ruse. He is not Arthas._

The young man is worried, again. Was that too much, too soon? “Sylvanas…?”

She presses herself against him and kisses his lips with an open mouth, her tears tasting of salt on their tongues.

 

*****

 

Delaryn Summermoon is packing for the band’s upcoming trip to the Isles. Her blue hair is in a loose top bun, she has some not-very-goth music on and she’s humming happily to it. Choosing which clothes to wear on either of the gigs plus on the whole vacation - because if they work only for two nights and this week before and the week between the concerts is free time, it is a vacation - she picks up a certain hippie-green t-shirt from the closet. _Oh, this. He loved this one._

Not a day goes by when she doesn’t think of Ferryn at some point. She’s recovered well and it doesn’t hurt anymore like it used to for years. Remembering him sometimes still makes her cry a little but mostly she just smiles as the melancholy washes over her, sad but not biting. _We had a beautiful thing together while he lived._

Nowadays she has these new, slightly unnerving thoughts and feelings messing up her hard-earned inner peace. An impish smile creeps on her face and she inhales deep. She’s not really sure if it’s _anything,_ really. It might be just meaningless flirting, it might just be that the other doesn’t even consider it flirting. They are becoming friends with Cyndia with this tingling, yet uncategorized atmosphere between them.

_Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe she just likes to banter because I’m so easy to tease?_

Also there’s the question of her never being interested in a woman before. It doesn’t bother her but it’s a new thing. Thinking of how the older Banshee always seizes an opportunity to talk to her although she seems mostly quiet around people makes her think it must be special. There’s always the tease, and whenever Delaryn purposefully offers a chance by playing either stupid, innocent or just being her funny self, the other takes it.

It could develop into a friendship and she’d love that too. But… the way Cyn sometimes touches her in passing, brushes her hips with hers or her thigh with her hand speaks of something else. Especially when Delaryn reacts to those touches so powerfully. All the moments with the band when they’re not playing she’s like on hot coals, exhilarated and jittery and eager to stay a bit longer than necessary, trying to come up with ideas that would draw Cyn to respond without directly asking or poking her. Oh, she does that too, but she needs to keep a balance so it wouldn’t be too constant and annoying in the case of this whole shebang being Del’s imagination and nothing more.

There was that one time she _had to be silenced…_ Blush rises to her cheeks when she remembers it. Could a tension like that be only one-sided? Her heart had been about to burst, the other’s chest pressing against hers, the muffling hand against her lips… she had nipped her finger playfully but spent the rest of the evening worrying if it was too erotic a thing to do to a ...pal. Cyndia had only grinned.

Well, there’s not much she can do except keep taunting and maybe, just maybe brave going a bit deeper if an opportune moment arises. 

_“Ooh ooh wish it were Sunday…oo wo woo ‘cause that’s my fun day, ooh it’s just another manic Mondaaay...”_

   
  
*****

 

“Just how many bags do you have?” Anduin asks incredulously when Sylvanas drags a third big suitcase from the hotel room closet.

“We are flying straight to Heathrow tomorrow, the last two gigs are at Nagrand and Terokkar. So I basically have everything that I might need with me.” _Including some toys for my lonely nights there,_ she adds to herself.

The young man still looks like she’s nuts and she laughs at his teasing.

“You know, the stage outfits, casual wear, several pairs of boots…” He laughs too. Anduin is laying on the king sized bed not a thread on him, beautiful, young and perfect to her eyes. His hair is falling free on his shoulders. She’s naked too, their lovemaking still warming her skin that smells of his.

“I could… come there as well. If that’s OK? Not for the whole two weeks though.”

“You could? What about your courses?” She’s battling between joy and uncertainty, not wanting to be the one to mess his studies.

“I can sort them out… I think. I’ll have to check.”

Opening the smaller suitcase she goes through it, finds a purple beauty bag and something small inside it. She walks with light, dancing steps back to bed beside him, crawls over him and sits on his lap. Smiling she puts her hands around his neck and he feels a narrow metal chain brush his skin.

“What is it?”

“I’m marking my territory, young man.” He fumbles under his chin until he finds the chain, follows it down and picks up a small ring that’s hanging from it. It’s silvery but it looks like a child’s, it would never fit in any of his fingers. There’s a blue stone embedded on it.

“I like blue.”

“Don’t lose it.” There’s an emphasis to her words - it’s no mere trinket. He feels warmth gather in his chest.

“I’ll guard it with my life, my lady.”

“Keep that up and I’ll have to whip you.”

“I _knew_ the goths were a kinky lot. Do you also have an upside-down cross to hang me onto?”

“Now you’re just confused about genres. We’re not a black metal band, silly. Not sure if any of those use an inverted cross either, sounds impractical.”

His hands slide over her thighs, languid, loving. Sylvanas needs to push away the thought of any distant future. She wants to stay in this moment, but it’s unavoidable knowing this relationship can’t really last long. It would be unfair for the youth to tie him down now, with an old rocker like her. He has so much ahead of him.

_Yet I gave him my sibling ring._

“Fancy going _out_ for a change? I hear the statues at the dam are a sight to see. We could even eat out.” They both make a mock gasp and then giggle.

“Are you asking me out on a _date,_ Miss Windrunner?”

She almost cracks a joke about the ring and _asking,_ but swallows the words and grins, slowly caressing his chest like he were a cat.

“Why yes, I am, master Wrynn.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from this song:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEW6sq96dqU


	9. Across the Water, Across the Wave

 

High above the great sea Nathanos Marris is almost losing his patience with the band he’s supposed to manage towards a great comeback. He is sitting between Delaryn and Cyndia and he’s starting to regret being literal about the seating. The young blue haired drummer wanted to sit by the window and was bickering like a child when he sat on the seat that was marked on his ticket. What the hell ass was that about? He knows he’s not the most lovable guy but to his knowledge he has done nothing to offend the new member.

After half an hour of practically serving as a table for the two giggling women on both of his sides he grunts and stands up.

“Fine, you two. I’ll take the aisle.” Cyndia seems slightly tense about this. _Decide already, will you?_ He forces her to move and they swap places. Delaryn looks intently outside, watching the clouds and the wing of the airplane, color creeping to her face and neck. It doesn’t go unnoticed, the older Banshee member fumbles with the seatbelt for far too long, brows knit.

In front of them Sylvanas and Kalira are trying to get the grumpy rhythm guitarist to take part in their group selfie. To be precise it’s Kalira bossing around with the reluctant bandleader’s phone.

“Maiev, be a sport now. You can mope the rest of the flight but we need to send the poor deprived physiotherapist a nice photo of us.”

“Do we really? I’m sure the boy would be _satisfied_ if Syl here took the phone to the restroom with her and -” She gets a not-so-gentle elbow nudge from her boss and laughs.

Delaryn peeks over their backs. “I’m in! Anything for your golden lover boy!” Nathanos lets an annoyed grunt and melodramatically puts on a pair of big headphones.

“What’s his deal?” Del whispers and Cyndia shrugs. “Broken heart?”, she whispers back. Eyes widening the drummer grins apologetically but the tall, bearded man is already pretending to sleep.

“OK gals, play dead! Oops, I mean - look happy!”

Maiev puts on such a fake smile it would scare demons, Sylvanas pulls a face that says “they forced me”, behind them Delaryn sticks her tongue out lecherously between the fingers of her victory sign and beside her Cyndia muses whether or not to tame the girl right there. She’s too slow and her expression is caught on camera.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!”

“On the contrary, luv, I think you’re completely _done”,_ Kalira grins zooming into the picture. Her friend’s predicament hasn’t gone amiss though she has not admitted to anything. Usually they talk about their flings in all glorious and dirty details but now Cyn has been completely silent. Yet it’s obvious she has a thing for the young drummer. And it seems to vex her even though she teases and flirts with the girl whenever possible.

“Lemme see!” Delaryn hangs from their seats like a kid doing acrobatics. Kalira shows her a close-up of the photo in spite of Cyndia’s protests.

“Now, is she disapproving or applauding your technique, I wonder?”

“Hey!” Del’s face flames up and she giggles to cover her profound embarrassment. “It was for --” and then she stops, hoping to find a shoe to stuff into her mouth. _That sounded totally like I was protesting too much._

“Yeeeah. Syl, I’m not sure your face is the most loving and all that. Let’s take another one. Now think of Anduin and how he’s going to suffer alone without a Banshee ass to rub.”

“Hey!” Sylvanas laughs. “He does more than that, thank you for asking.”

“Oooohh”, goes the whole choir.

“We demand details!” Kalira grins and gets a perfect picture of everyone just laughing and in the case of Delaryn almost falling off the seat back. It’s the one Sylvanas ends up sending her young man.

“The concert place in Nagrand looks awesome, like a massive diamond!” Del browses their travel info Nathanos and Syl had sent some weeks ago.

“Yeah, Oshu’gun is beyond legendary. It’s been used as a music video location since the seventies and even if it’s a World Heritage Site they still allow strictly monitored events there. _Very strictly,_ mind you, after what happened in Machu Picchu. The name is some sort of old druidic language connected to the Neolithic settlements there. You’ll all come with me to see the Stonehenge, right?”

“You bet! How did you manage to get the mansion by the lake?”

“Nathan did, I think he had some connections. It’s not a mansion but several luxury cabins in the Sunspring Post Retreat. The elemental stones are like in an hour’s drive away.”

In the safety of her hood and the facade of moping Maiev checks IG for the millionth time. Pulse quickening she finds what she’s been waiting for - or one of the things anyway: _HornGod_ has liked her video. She grins so much her cheeks start vibrating. As a sign of mutual understanding, respect and professionalism between her and the infuriatingly hot long-distance acquaintance she had posted a picture of an unpeeled banana on a table yesterday. No tags, no text. And Illidan had liked it almost immediately. That told her he either has posts on alert or he’s nose deep in his phone constantly.

Maiev had continued her art performance project the same night, right after having packed her suitcases. She had placed the phone against a pickle jar so it only recorded her hands and calmly made a video of herself splitting the banana in two with a big knife.

That should convey her feelings somewhat explicitly.

He had taken his sweet time to double tap that. Sure, he might have a life and lots to do, but Maiev decides to read the delay as hesitation in the interpretation of her message and also uncertainty of it even being a message.

_I hope he feels that in his dick._

Struggle as she might, and even with the replacement behavior of slicing phallic fruit, letting herself think of his body parts - that she has no clue about other than that one hint she found in the net - sends a hot surge of want in her loins. _Damn that man._

“So, do you have naked pics of him then?”

Maiev jumps and her heart jumps in her throat simultaneously. Kalira’s intruding question wasn’t aimed at her but she realizes this too late.

“I might, but they’re private, you silly hag”, Sylvanas says voice brimming with erotic joy.

“Maieeeeev.” _Oh no, oh no._ She can only resort to faking having fallen asleep.

“Ummh what?”

The thing is, there is this one picture that has been circulating the internet for a year. No-one is sure who leaked it. The story goes that it was intended as cover art for The Illidari’s second album but then got stuck in the jaws of censorship and was changed to something entirely different.

Maiev has that picture saved in her phone as well as on her PC and it might or might not have been printed to go between the pages of her diary. Which she doesn’t have. Or write. Obviously. Pfff, who does that sort of thing nowadays?

Delaryn isn’t falling for her sleepy voice act. “How’s your hunt?” Cyn giggles.

“What?”

“Oh, nevermind. You sound too angry to be any fun.” She flumps back onto her seat and again has no immediate excuse to not look at or talk to Cyndia. And for some reason she doesn’t know what to say, so she babbles on about trivial things like the shapes of clouds outside the small window.

“Yeah, that one looks like the pope.” The older Banshee is leaning against her shoulder and a bit past her, reaching towards the window in the cramped space, two fingers with black nail polish on them sliding down the thick glass. Del inhales quickly at their closeness but keeps her gaze on the sky.

“Which one, where?” The redhead is right there, almost on her lap, her cheek inches away from the younger one’s lips. If either one of them moved their head...

Delaryn realizes she’s holding her breath and has gone rigid. Forcing herself to resume vital functions she draws in breath and tries to calm her heartbeat through magical thinking, though Cyndia smelling so good is really not helping.

“Right there, the one ravaged by the seven-headed beast.” The younger one bursts into laughter that to her own ears sounds shaky and nervous. The older woman turns her head just slightly, very aware of their proximity and her eyes focus on Del’s open lips just for a wee bit longer than could be explained away as casual. Then their eyes meet.

She had been avoiding the final acknowledgment of the whole bloody mess that is the condition of her heart but now Cyndia seems to have no choice anymore. The game has been fun, teasing the youth exhilarating, but she’s damned if she can bluff herself out of this.

_I want to kiss her. And she sees it too._

“Sorry”, she whispers with a gentle smile and retreats sitting upright. Del closes her eyes.

 

 

*****

 

 

Anduin grins at the photo he just received while trying to gobble a sandwich, pull on his shoes and find his keys. He barely catches the bus. The first half of the short commute he smiles with a force strong enough to sprout flowers from the vehicle floor. Nearer the school he remembers Arator and his mood is ruined. Now he regrets being in time, it’s not so easy to dodge his friend when they are all waiting at the classroom door.

 _If_ they still are friends, that is.

He sees the other blond boy in the crowd, talking to Taelia. Arator is always easy to spot for his preference for bright red and yellow in his t-shirt choices. This one’s even tie-dyed to have both of his favorite colors. There’s something there between those two classmates that makes Anduin look twice. The girl’s cheeks are pink and Arator is touching her arm. Then he lifts his head and sees him. A small pang of fear in his guts Anduin slows his steps until the other nods and there’s a shadow of a smile on his face.

“Anduin.”

“Hi. Hey, Taelia.”

“Excuse me, Tae. I need to talk to my buddy here.” He walks aside, dragging his _buddy_ along who braces himself for what’s to come.

“Now, I don’t even want to talk about it - I mean I can’t, it’s just - ugh - _no._ But. Taelia Fordragon. She was all googly eyes for you so I never bothered before. Now, for all things I’ve had to endure and see - I wish I could just burn my eyes, man - I’d say you _owe_ me.”

“What? Yes. You saved us - I mean me, in the hotel. I’m scared of your mom.”

“And so you should. But aunt Sylvie seemed so happy - augh _damn_ I don’t want to know this -” He slaps himself in the side of his head for emphasis - “Uh, anyways. I forgive you. And you even get to be unreserved about the whole thing. Because I want you to hang out with us a bit these next days and bloody well make sure Taelia understands how witlessly in love and _engaged_ you are to your _girlfriend._ No need to mention who she is though. You can say she’s from Canada.”

“But wh-- oh. Oh. OK. Yes.” After a moment Anduin’s light brows wrinkle. “Wait a minute. What do you mean you’ve... _seen_ something?”

 

 

*****

 

 

Altruis is suffering greatly of the consequences of his leader’s new attitude. After grinning madly through their three hour rehearsal Illidan asked him again to stay behind and practice the “surprise song”. Well, fortunately it’s not a long piece and very easy for the rhythm guitar to master even in this short time - in their band the solos have been mostly Illidan’s with his bass guitar and in the songs where Altruis plays them the bass covers the rhythm. It’s what they’ve been praised for. In this short song that again has some very few and mildly suggestive lines the rest of it is Illidan’s improvised solo with, again, very suggestive gestures included.

Altruis would roll his eyes but after the second practice the song actually sticks to his head and starts sounding like a hit. _Well now._

When he is taking his leave he hears Illidan roar with laughter just as he’s closing the door. Now’s the time to roll them eyeballs.

In the house Altruis was glad to get out of their bandleader is over the moon. And then he knits his brows and isn’t so sure after all. And then he laughs again. And then, against all probability, his cock shows signs of high tolerance to suggestions of violence made at it.

Maiev has posted a video that is definitely, almost beyond all doubt whatsoever, a message addressed to _him._ Unless she happens to have found someone else who by assumption or confirmation has this type of genitalia and has awoken her burning ire as Illidan knows he has.

_Nope, it’s for me. She has been thinking about me._

It’s also a step - a warped one, he admits, in between his fits of laughter and delight - towards some sort of communication. What made Illidan all hyped up today was what he found out from the Banshees’ website. He was aware of them being at Sethekk among many other performers, but until now he hadn’t checked the rest of their tour dates.

The Banshees will be here in his home country this weekend. That is to say, a day after The Illidari play at the “Black” Temple the goth band will play at the old spirit mountain in Nagrand. They are bound to travel at least a day earlier, in all probability some days before their gig. And they might be around the following week that ends in Sethekk Fest.

_So, she has a chance of hunting me down. I hope she takes it._

 

 

*****

 

 

“Ugh.” Syl and Kali let Maiev get back to her window seat. There’s still an hour to their landing. Sylvanas sees her grimace and hold her belly.

“Oh no, was it this food -”

“Nah, just my scheduled mandatory monthly suffering.”

“Ouch. Is it bad? Do you need a painkiller?”

“I already took one, thanks. I wouldn’t mind you lending me your masseur though.” Once it’s out of her lips she wants to slap herself for the way it sounded. Kalira bursts into laughter.

“I think you need to find yourself your own ride, darling.”

“Pfff, I meant purely his profession, but whatever.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Nothing soothes the cramps like a good, hard lower back massage. Except a good, hard banging, of course.” Sylvanas grins to herself.

Kalira laughs, Maiev swallows a gasp, eyes darting to her boss. “Really? You can fuck during this monsoon?”

“I could have, and would have wanted to, but Arthas was a whiny little bitch who hid his fear of blood behind a manly front of misogyny. Though I was so irregular in those years due to not eating properly I sometimes missed like three periods in a row and _he_ didn’t have to suffer much.”

“Hah. He sounds like a total arsewipe. Why you talking about him though?”

“We’ve... known each other only for three weeks with Anduin. He’ll have his work cut out for him if he visits me this weekend. And by that I also mean just massage, you perverts. I think it’s a bit too early in our… affair, I don’t want to scare him off.”

“I’m sure your cute lil lover boy is trainable. He seemed keen.”

“Mmm.”

”Wait a minute. You really _did_ deflower him then?!”

”I did no such thing. He’s perfectly in bloom.”

“Also, now that we’re on the subject… I totally thought you were menopausal. You mentioned one time - _ouch, for fuck’s sake_ \- that you can’t have kids.”

“Oh lord, I’m not _that_ old yet! No, I’ve just had my tubes removed like a decade ago. Doesn’t remove the period.” She shrugs.

“Oh. I’ve heard it’s difficult to get the doctors agreeing unless you’ve had like five kids and they decide you’ve done your duty overpopulating the planet.”

“I’ve heard that too. In my case I was lucky to be a struggling addict and the eugenic views of the nurses and the doctor helped lubricate the process. I’ve just never really wanted kids, is all.”

“But… what if Anduin wants them?” Maiev regrets immediately, for the Nth time, the unfiltered frog that just leaped out. Kalira glares at her, Sylvanas shrugs again. “Ah, sorry. I should think before I blurt out stuff.”

“It’s alright. I’m not marrying him, you know? I’ll just have to let him go when the time comes.” Her bittersweet expression leaves everyone speechless.

Maiev retreats back into her seat. Hiding behind her hood she mulls over this new idea of having one more week in the month for fun - if she ever landed herself into that sort of position, pun intended, with anyone. Thoughts and images of her secret hate crush flash in her mind, Illidan’s strong hands grabbing her hips - now she knows how strong - thumbs pressing firmly into her lower back. Would she be comfortable doing that during her period? Ewh, probably not. But the idea is tempting in some weird way since Sylvanas made it sound so good. Would he be appalled or disgusted by her flow? Or would he gladly sink his cock into her and help with some _deep tissue massage?_

She stifles a moan. Even getting aroused helps counter the present pain. _Why haven’t I thought of this before?_

Behind her Delaryn and Cyndia are suspiciously silent.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the thing about Machu Picchu:
> 
> https://www.theguardian.com/world/2000/sep/11/sheilapulham


	10. As the Water Come Rushing Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // More talk, less (hetero)sexing //

 

 

Anduin wakes up covered in sweat, heart smashing against his ribcage, tears falling on his face. His phone is ringing but he cannot register what the noise is, the more or less recurring nightmare still vivid in his head. The huge glowing green monster truck smashing into his father with a following explosion. He wasn’t there when the accident happened but his subconscious has conjured up an ugly version of it. Breathing deep and sniffling he wipes his eyes and fumbles for the phone. It’s uncle Genn again. Anduin sighs, knowing he really has to answer this time, he’s been dodging his relatives for weeks. Clearing his throat from the remnants of sleep and crying he tries to gather himself.

“Good morning, uncle.”

“Anduin, thank the Lord. I’ve been worried because of your silence. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m good. I did send you several text messages --”

“You know I don’t know how to open those, I barely suffer this small devil’s gadget at all.”

“Right. Well, at least you knew I was alive, then.” A dose of sarcasm seeps into the young man’s voice and he’s too late to realize how much his time spent with the goth singer has changed his behavior… and sense of humor.

“Well, yes. Hrmpf. Now, I wanted to invite you this weekend to dine with us. It’s high time we talk about a better education for you after this hippie gap year you’re taking now. Mia will make some of that favorite pie of yours, hmm?”

“Genn. I cannot this weekend. I will be travelling - “ and he wants to bite his lip until he draws blood for not making up some lie. Now he has a battle ahead of him.

“Travelling - again? You just returned from the other trip not a month ago, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but this is… different. It’s a… history and culture studies. Thing.” He needs to ask Arator to back him up somehow if there’s need. He shivers uncomfortably recalling that the classmate had spied on him kissing _aunt_ Sylvanas. Against a wall. In public.

“Oh, for the school? I don’t see how history has any relevance to _massage.”_ The way his upper class dialect intensifies and drips disapproval over his profession makes Anduin envision him nose in the air and all baronial like he is when confronted with anything he judges “too modern”, useless or childish.

“We had a chance to choose a week from other lines of study”, he says, hating that he actually doesn’t blatantly lie but is using a truth to strengthen the lies. He had chosen an ecology course and it was last year.

“Well, that at least is something useful. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t pursue an academic career when I would gladly pay for it.”

“Uncle. What I’m doing _is_ useful, if not in the societal or capitalistic sense you’d hope. You cannot go saying to a son of a _boxing champion_ that academia is in his blood”, he grins, trying to pull on his trousers with one hand. The memory of the dream stings in his heart but he’s not about to cry anymore.

“He was also a very notable figure in your hometown politics, although I’d be the first to disagree with some of… I’m sorry, Anduin. I shouldn’t talk about Varian like this.”

The boy’s voice softens. “It’s OK to talk about him. I’m fine.”

“Hrm. So, where does this class trip take place?”

“Stonehenge. Nagrand and the surroundings.”

“That’s marvelous!”

_Phew. I guess he won’t cut my allowance after all. I should start finding clients just in case._

The rest of the phone call his hot-blooded uncle talks warmly about his youth interrailing with Mia and how they saw all these wonderful places. They end up arranging their family dinner a week later.

 

*****

 

Sunspring Post is a wonderful retreat away from the commotion of the cities. The small lake is magical, with red water lilies and a beautiful waterfall to the west. Guests can go for a morning swim if they so fancy. Huge old leafy trees shield the yard.

All the band members have their own tepee shaped cabins and for these few days they’ve made some excursions into town and to the surrounding countryside. Sometimes it’s just Sylvanas and Kalira, sometimes all of them, even including the grumbling managerial roadie Nathanos who nonetheless seemed to enjoy his time, especially in the pubs serving all kinds of fancy beer. He carried their shopping bags with the air of wounded dignity but insisted on doing it anyway. They’ve planned the trip to the Stonehenge for next week after the Oshu’Gun gig.

This morning Cyndia seems too sleepy and declares in a clear voice through the door her intention on staying in and just “hang around lazily”, whatever that means. Del also sounds like she’d rather sleep in when Syl and Kali knock on her door next. They exchange a very suggestive glance and then have a hard time muffling their bubbling laughter.

_“You think they have shagged yet?”_

_“I’m convinced they will today if we just ignore them as graciously as we have so far.”_

_“Who do you reckon takes the first step?”_

_“Should we get a poll running? Or a betting ring? My money’s on Del.”_

“What are you whispering?” growls Maiev, walking all zombie-like past them towards the breakfast hall in the center of the village-esque retreat. They join her.

“Syl thinks it will be Del who jumps Cyn first.”

“What, they haven’t banged yet? What the hell, they cannot keep their hands off each other, I thought it had happened ages ago.”

“Did you see how they were in the airport taxi? Like something terrifying or wonderful had happened during the flight. They didn’t speak a word and both looked, I don’t know, not blushing but very close to it.”

“I didn’t notice, I was... dozing off.” She braids her long blond hair while they walk. The things she had imagined to keep her cramps at bay through the rest of the trip, well, they had surely helped, but her paranoia whispers her someone might guess her thoughts from the look on her face.

The furious masturbating when she finally got to her own room left her breathless and the image of Illidan all gloriously starkers now seems to be imprinted on the insides of her eyelids. She slept well and with fewer painkillers than usual this time of month.

“Why haven’t they just, you know, gone official already? Is there something I’m not seeing?”

“Nothing dramatic, really. Cyn has had some bad experiences, just like we all, but nothing scarring I suppose. My guess is she’s overcautious because it’s a band member this time. And Del is, what, fifteen years her junior?”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Yeah, heh. The only thing that’s different now is she has said nothing about it, not a word. I mean she might even believe we don’t see their flirting as what it is!”

“That might mean it’s… serious this time.” They look at Kalira and nod at her.

“Sooo, Maiev… What did they mean when they asked you about _the_ _hunt?”_

“Let’s just go to the breakfast, OK? I need my caffeine fix asap.”

“Gaahh - you _do not_ talk in acronyms!”

“I do, lol.”

 

*****

 

Cyndia listens to their retreating footsteps and goes to take a shower. Her skin has been tingling all day every day since the incident at the airplane. The desire to touch Delaryn was overwhelming but she felt she had to take it slow, still uncertain if the younger one was just goofing about. Nothing wrong with that either, flirting is the salt and butter of life. This time though… The redheaded keyboardist knows she couldn’t start a passing fling with a band member, no matter how tempting it would feel now. It would ruin the whole balance of the group if they banged a few times and then broke up or quarreled or something...

Sliding her hands over her skin with the individually packed piece of soap - that a certain eco-conscious masseur would huff disapprovingly at - she sighs. It’s been too damn long since she felt the warmth of another’s skin slide against hers. It’s like thirst, yet you survive every day, dry and wilted.

Except she isn’t either of those, especially now.

The bright red dye dissolving from her hair colors the shampoo foam all pink. Cyndia slides handfuls of it over her breasts and has a fleeting image of feeding whipped cream from her fingers to the blue-haired pixie. The foam dances between her toes before vanishing with the pouring water. What would a mixed purple look like?

In her neighboring cabin Delaryn is on hot coals. She’s convinced, completely certain, very much sure that Cyn meant that as a sign, meant it for her to know they could… both stay behind if all the others went to that excursion. They had drank some wine last night but not enough to pretend to be hangover. Or maybe just, since they hadn’t heard more persuading from behind the door.

_She almost kissed me. Damn, damn, damn._

The rest of the flight after that quasi-incident they had been silent but that didn’t mean nothing happened. Something happened that was actually kind of earth-shattering, since now she knew the older Banshee really did fancy her. They had sat side by side, eyes to the front, immobile. In the corner of her eye Del had seen that they both happened to have their hands on their own thighs, in a “look, I’m not touching anything improper” kind of way. And that left their knees and thus their adjacent hands very close to each other.

Del had watched and pondered for eternal minutes how if she just flicked her little finger it would touch Cyndia’s. Such a small thing yet her tummy clenched and burned in a sweet, sweet way.

And then she had widened the spread of her legs, like she just wanted a better sitting position. The fingers touched lightly and a current had shot through her. She had felt the other jump a bit. The tension that almost choked Del was also an agreement: they both slowly moved their fingers, first caressing pinkie fingers against each other, then the outer side of the palm, then moving the back of the hand against the other like in a mirror dance. They both controlled their breathing and both saw that the other did so. Then Cyndia ventured to turn her palm upwards so her fingers could slide under Delaryn’s wrist to that fatally sensitive part where the veins are visible just underneath the skin. The young one had slammed her free hand over her mouth and she could hear her sharp inhalation. That charged them to such heights they simultaneously turned their heads to check on Nathanos who was almost snoring, thank god.

Such electricity couldn’t go unnoticed by the people around them, surely? Not when it felt like a grip in the throat and an endless boost of bubbling energy.

Before she returned her gaze back - where? She wasn’t sure she dared to look the drummer in the eye yet - she felt Del intertwine her fingers with hers and press their palms together so that there was no doubt about anything being an accident. It also kind of resembled humping and that made them shiver - and grin widely.

They glanced at each other, smiling and almost giggling. Del’s cheeks were so delightfully red Cyn could have eaten her right there had she not been in public and frozen with the intensity of the whole ordeal.

Since then they had slipped into their usual banter and tease in front of the others but at times they found themselves side by side and in secret, behind their backs - or on one occasion a pillar that was between them in a museum trip - they took the other’s hand for a moment, or just one finger. The electricity stayed, and grew.

Drying her hair on a towel Cyndia waits.

 

*****

 

_”I’ve bought the tickets. Fri thru Monday”_

_”Good. In time to get me in a mood not suitable for my songs”_

_”Don’t, I’m trying for the bus :)”_

_”Late again? Would you like to be even later, little lion?”_

_”I have an exam”_

_”Of anatomy? :P”_

Anduin groans between his widely grinning lips, drops the mobile in his bag and dashes for the bus stop. The front of his jeans is feeling tight again but he’s been foresighted and nowadays always uses a long sweater. Even when he’s gotten a bit used to the sexual vibe that’s going on - whether or not he’s with Sylvanas - the sudden boners still plague his days. His _girlfriend,_ as he has taken a habit of calling her at school, sends insinuating texts and sometimes even photos that shatter his concentration on completely different parts of human body structure.

After the exam they meet with Arator and Tae. Anduin replies the text late.

_”Yes, lower limb muscles, tendons and their nervous system. I did well. Will show you later ;)”_

”Your bae again? I swear I’ve never seen anyone so in love!” Taelia chuckles, the disappointment of the revelation all gone from her voice by now. Anduin smiles coyly and notices how the other boy looks pleased - his eyes are on the girl.

_”Yes, you will. Both of my lower limbs and then the nervous system between them”_

Bright crimson rises on his cheeks and he’s very grateful for the long, loose Disney sweatshirt that says Hakuna Matata on the front.

”Ooh look at that, must be a naughty pic now!”

This reminds the nephew who they are talking about and his brow knits in an attempt to shoo the images away. Anduin glances at him and shakes his head slightly but it does little to help Arator’s cursed imagination.

”Let’s not talk about his love life, OK?”

”Oooo are you _jealous?_ Would you like to have one of those as… well…” Her voice fades seeing the smouldering look in her classmate’s eyes.

_”Yes.”_

Anduin mumbles some excuse and slips away.

 

*****

 

_”I’m at school. You’re heartless!”_

_“Later then? ;)”_

_“Yes xx”_

“Come on Sylvie, Nat is getting grumpier than usual!”

“Sorry! I’m coming! Sure you don’t want to join us, Maiev?”

“Nah, I need a break. Tomorrow’s Thursday and rehearsal, right? Do we have anything on Friday?”

“Nope, just tourist stuff. Saturday afternoon a short soundcheck. Be a cupid and stay out of their way, eh?” Sylvanas winks and points towards the remaining band members’ cabins. Then she’s off to their rented family car.

“Oh, _I will.”_ Maiev has a lot weighing her mind. The “communication” online with Illidan has taken a new step and it’s a bit scary. She wants to lock herself in her room and mull over the situation like a true goth.

But the idea isn’t a new one. She had considered it already.

Illidan had posted a picture that all but yells _“come see me”._ There’s a Banshees CD beside the latest Illidari album and they are set side by side on top of a gig poster about them playing at Karabor Temple Club this Friday. Shadowmoon Valley is two hours’ drive from Nagrand.

Two days. Two days of waiting will kill her with anxiety. Thinking and waiting and fretting over it. Worrying the others would find out and planning how to sneak away from the hotel and imagining every possible scenario at the club… and wanking herself to a carpal tunnel syndrome.

After a moment she’s right behind Sylvanas. “Wait. I changed my mind.” They slip in the back seat of the car. Nathanos glances at them over his shoulder, grunts and starts the engine. Kalira is on the front seat and somehow they have an air of an old couple trying to rein in a bunch of kids.

Once the car has driven off a charged silence descends over the remaining inhabitants. After some minutes Cyndia realizes it’s a bit unfair to leave the crucial step on Delaryn’s shoulders especially when she’s the one who dared to step over the threshold of ‘just flirting’.

She silently opens the cabin door. _I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake, woman up already._ Her heart does not listen and beats like a drummer on speed. When she peeks out she sees Del in an identical situation, coquettishly leaning on the knob of her door, blue locks damp from a shower. She grins and gets an immediate answering smile from the redhead.

”Hi.”

”Hey.”

”You stayed too?” An unnecessary question serving as a filler and a probing device. Her voice is a bit shaky and she laughs nervously. Cyn inhales and takes the next step.

”Wanna come hang out?”

Delaryn only nods enthusiastically, lips pressed shut. In her eyes the other seems perfectly composed while she’s freaking out. They glance around the yard and then she sneaks to the neighboring hut. Once the door is closed the knots in their bellies are wound so tight it’s a wonder either one of them can produce coherent speech. Cyndia leans against the door and tries to calm her breathing.

“So, um, I think maybe we should…” She can’t continue any further because the younger one steps in front of her with a determined look, standing too close for it to be anything but what they’ve craved for some time now. Her eyes say she’s not merely playing. She lifts her shaking hand on Cyndia’s cheek and dives in with an open-mouthed kiss. And just like that they are unshackled. The redhead whines and cups the other’s face, gently, like fearing she’d run off. It’s a soft, tasting, unhurried kiss and it sets them ablaze.

Delaryn cannot believe how _soft_ those lips are. Having only ever kissed young men she hadn’t realized that the absence of stubble might work as a lubricant. In more ways than one. She slides her wet lips over Cyndia’s, nips them between hers, explores - and it doesn’t chafe. She feels like she could slip off them if she didn’t hold tight.

Their fast, puffy breathing through their noses fills the room. Cyndia moves her hands on the drummer’s narrow waist and pulls her close, making her whine. She aches to devour her, wants to hear her voice when she’s bound and helpless and - - on a second thought, maybe she should postpone _that bit_ until after they’re more… acquainted.  

Instead it’s Cyn who cries out when the brave young thing pushes her jeans-clad thigh between hers and takes a mirroring hold of her hips. _God, it’s been so long, I’m going to burst like a teenage boy._ But she doesn’t mind all that much. Her soft sweatpants give way and she throbs against the friction. Delaryn retreats an inch from her lips and looks her in the eyes.

“I’m totally winging this, Cyn. I have no idea what I’m doing.” She grins, cheeks burning, eyes like stars.

“I have.” Her gruff, deeper voice has a tint of amusement in it but no traces of mocking. She might know how to get a girl off but she has no inkling of how to proceed into a healthy relationship, especially with her specific inclinations.

She pulls the drummer back on her lips and enters her mouth with a soft, playful tongue. Delaryn moans and pushes her leg up, rocking herself against the goth lady who then flips them around and presses Del against the door. Not leaving the kiss Cyndia, impatient, yanks the jeans button open and slides her hand down into the girl’s panties. Fingers sliding over the mound of soft hair make Delaryn moan and jerk. The older Banshee keeps the demanding kiss going when her fingers find out just how much the other wants her. Curling the fingers she slowly plunges them inside the dripping warmth. A low wail escapes Delaryn’s lips. Cyndia feels she has never heard anything so beautiful.

 _“Oh god,_ Del. I was about to ask if you’re sure about this…”

“Yes, god, yes, _please -”_ Her whining plea hits Cyn right into the loins. She presses herself against the young one’s side and slowly rubs around her slick clit in the confined space of the pants. Del is almost panting now.

“I should warn you, darling… I can be a bit… bossy.” Small, gentle circles, round and round, slippery but precise. She can feel how swollen the bud is, throbbing against her fingertips. The control over the other’s pleasure is intoxicating.

“Oh -- _I know._ I’ll -- fight you.” Her clear blue eyes open and she grins with such an impish way Cyndia knows she’s found a treasure. Maybe even a very rare spawn of a perfect match for herself. She’ll have to brave it and dive into a relationship to find out for sure.

 _“Good.”_ She licks her way into her mouth again and speeds up the pace of her hand. Delaryn’s muffled cries tell her when to slip her fingers inside her, rubbing the clitoris with the length of her thumb until Delaryn tenses and then relaxes with several shudders, her walls clenching around Cyndia’s fingers. She hums against the soft lips, pleased and right on the verge herself.

_Never again like this though, my wrist is killing me._

She pulls her hand out gently and brings it to her lips. Del seems neither shy nor a prude. Licking the fingers clean her core throbs at the girl’s taste - and the way she stares wide-eyed at her mouth, a satisfied grin on her face.

“Welcome to the dark side, luv.”

 

 


	11. Sing This Corrosion to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // Warning for sex during menstruation, nothing too explicitly gory though //

 

 

Maiev has no trouble whatsoever leaving for Shadowmoon Valley.

It’s a warm summer evening, Sunspring Post Retreat looks fantastic with the huge trees and the glimmering lake. Steeling herself for questions or jabs she goes looking for the others to say ‘bye and dash off. She finds no-one at the terrace. _Well, I could just leave a text,_ she muses, relieved. But then she hears shrieking and giggling from the shore.

Cyndia and Delaryn are jumping from the pier to the lake, pushing each other, wrestling, behaving like kids. In heat. _I guess they banged, then._

“Hey _Bangles,_ have you seen the others? I’m leaving for the night and wanted to let you know.” Delaryn turns her head to address Maiev, wide grin on her face, head trapped in Cyndia’s bulldog choke. She’s wearing a tiny light blue bikini that matches her hair color perfectly. She tries to answer but is rudely dropped into the lake. Cyndia looks satisfied with her handiwork with such a determined, sly, contented expression on her face even Maiev considers blushing.

“They all went to collect Sylvie’s lover boy from the airport. Should be back soon.”

“You seem to be having a tremendous time.”

“Oh, you have _no idea.”_ Cyndia, for the perfection of things, has a bright red bikini on. Her scarlet hair is braided tight and it’s dripping water. Maiev’s eyes follow the curve of her hips and she wishes she herself looked as hot in ten years. The blue haired girl splashes in the water, choking for air theatrically.

“Oh, just you wait, old lady! I’ll show you!”

“I know you will, kid.”

“Right. See ya.” The guitar player leaves the enviable pair to their weird dynamic and heads for the gates. Luckily there’s a good bus network throughout the region and she doesn’t have to pay for a taxi for such a long trip nor ask for a lift from Nat or someone else in the group - she really, _really_ doesn’t want them to know where she’s going. Like on cue their rented car drives to the retreat yard just as she’s at the gates.

Sylvanas and the golden-haired boy exit from the back seat, the kid bright red in the face and trying to curb his smile. The lead singer looks annoyingly happy and she’s holding his hand, for fuck’s sake. _Pun intended._

“Hi Syl. I’ll be out until late, no need to wait up.” Like they would remember to miss anything or anyone else while coupling like bunnies.

“Oh, ok. Where you off to?”

“Seeing a friend in a club in Shadowmoon.” She shifts her eyes away and they land on the boy again. She nods at him. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He has a warm, honest smile. _Very good choice, you broken old goth._

“Is this the famous _hunt,_ then? Who is it?” Sylvie’s teasing smile annoys the heck out of her.

“What? No. What is that, even? It’s Sira, an old friend.” The lie is a perfect one; without a doubt Sira will be there. They probably won’t meet nor be friends anymore, but she will be where she’s going. That seems to satisfy the leader and in any case she looks like she’s about to _satisfy_ the whole yard unless everyone lets her get on with leading the playmate into her cougar cabin.

Kalira gets out of the car the same time with Nathanos. The manager seems to be in a better mood - there’s even a small smile under the magnificent moustaches - and soon Maiev spots the reason: he’s carrying a box of fancy foreign beer. Grunting some sort of a farewell to the lot over her shoulder the guitarist hears Kali address him.

“Nat, could I have one of those, please? It’s not good to drink alone.”

“Sure.”

There’s something in their voices that intrigues her - but she’s gone already. The closest bus stop is at the main road and Maiev has time to walk there at a normal pace. Nonetheless she strides like she were chased by ravaging dogs, heart in her throat, hands clammy and cold.

 

****

 

”Metal audience isn’t as forgiving or as flexible as you might be. I’m just saying.” Altruis’ voice betrays him for not really opposing his leader despite his words.

”So we are not included in this secret song, then?” Vashj isn’t amused. Sira stays quiet, she’s so new to the group she feels she has no say in things, especially when the singer-bassist _is_ the songwriter as well. He’s basically the enterprise and they’re his employees.

”Look. It’s not that big a deal. The piece was made recently and it does not have any other instruments - the only reason I even took Altruis in on this is I want to be able to sing without playing myself - there’s a bass solo straight after the lyrics end. That’s it. Not even one minute. I just want to test new stuff. Try not to be so… conservative, alright?” Illidan grins and continues to adjust the horns on his head. He has put dark eyeliner and some glowing green on his eyelids, matching the bass and the tattoos he’ll reveal from under the tight t-shirt around the fifth song.

”Hmpf. I’ll stop being ’conservative’ when my leader is something other than a typical selfish autocrat like in so many _conservative_ settings.” They’ve had a lot of these arguments throughout their time but they have managed to stay together nonetheless. None of the others write or compose or even have wishes to, and the whole vision is Illidan’s. It’s been successful so far.

Anticipation tickling his balls the dark-haired band leader goes through a sort of ritualistic path in his mind to concentrate on the performance. He loves the uproar and the almost cultist feeling of strength and adoration the fans give them. For the duration of the _dark mass_ they surrender their souls to him, feeding his self-esteem like sacrifices a hungry god.

And today there’s a chance that _she_ will be here. A woman with power matching his, someone who doesn’t bow but fights back. Thinking about the possibility makes him harden in his tight black leather pants. He purrs to himself and adjusts his cock upright and pointing left. It’s desirable if not required to show off his goods on stage - the more drooling fans buy the merch the better. Tonight though he couldn’t care less about any others taking interest in what he hypothetically has to offer.

It’s not merely hypothetical when it comes to Maiev.

 

*****

 

Karabor Temple Club, or the Black Temple as the locals call the former church for its outer tiles darkened by the WWII bombings and later pollution, is already packed full. Tonight there are only two bands, the support for the local Illidari being this death metal act called Blight Boar that’s on the stage now. Long blonde hair dangling behind her in a braided ponytail like a thick rope Maiev zigzags the darkly clad crowd in her long, loose, moss green sweater and laughs to herself for the couple of judgmental looks she gets. _Fuck off, black sheep herd, I’m more rebel than you lot combined._

Her nervous anger is rising again. _What am I even doing here? Can I honestly claim I’m here for this sad excuse of a warm-up if he sees me?_

Better stay deep in the crowd. For some reason her conscious mind doesn’t see any contradiction between her chosen outfit and apparent wish to hide.

There are people with flimsy Halloween horns on their heads. She scoffs at them and finds a good spot at the side of the hall near the first rows in the shadow of an indoors balcony and its supporting column. She can see the stage well even if it’s from the side.

A familiar figure approaches her with sharp steps and she has no time to dodge. _Sira._

”You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

”The fuck? It’s a free world. Leave me be.” She doesn’t look her non-friend in the eye but pretends to be extremely interested in the band.

”No, I mean you could have answered my last message. Or _any_ of them.”

No reply except the growing wrinkle on Maiev’s brow. Yeah, why hadn’t she?

”Look. You’re in an awesome band now yourself. I saw a video of your gig. You _rock,_ babe. You can’t be pining for a spot in The Illidari, so what’s the problem?”

”Shut up!” But so much has changed since then, her words don’t have the weight anymore. She looks at Sira, in her green-and-black outfit that resembles a nightclub version of a tight sportswear.

”I remember you being goth but now you’re... I don’t even know what you are.”

”I don’t really care about the petty lines drawn between genres, and you know it. I just want to play in a band that I’m proud of. I was prepared even for death metal; of course they chose me. Also, they weren’t looking for a guitarist, so there’s that...”

Maiev doesn’t know what to say. Their quarrel seems irrational and distant now but she’s never been very good at admitting her own flaws or misdeeds - even to herself.

”Come on Maiev. You totally abandoned me and for what? Jealousy? You can be bigger than that. I still love you.”

There are now two lumps in her throat. She’s so afraid - and also kinda hopeful, and also kinda irate - of Illidan finding out her presence. Talking to his drummer makes the risk higher. And now Sira is ready to make up with her? _Alright, fine, I guess I should resolve this mess too._

”Ugh. I’m sorry.”

”What?”

”You heard me.” She’s still keeping her eyes on the stage, seeing nothing.

”I’ve _never_ heard you say that, just checking I didn’t hallucinate.”

Maiev gives in and looks at her friend. Their old connection flashes in Sira’s sneaking smile and resistance is futile, the emotion is about to smash her like a barrel wave on a noob surfer. She needs to resist the tears though; it’s not a good night to look like a Banshee.

”I’m _sorry,_ Sira. I’ve been an ass. I… don’t even know why I was like that.” But she does know. Her jealousy didn’t concern the job opportunity but the employer that she now has a certain… hold of.

”Finally. You _fuckhead.”_ Sira dives in and hugs her so tight it squeezes the anxieties out of her for a moment.

”Now, you wanna come backstage?”

”NO!”

”Oh. You didn’t dare back then either. What is it? He won’t bite.”

Maiev closes her eyes - and mouth so she wouldn’t let slip the first thought that crosses her oversensitive imagination.

”I would just stay here and watch you play if that’s alright. I… I’m not in a good mood for seeing any people really.” Her anxious and wandering eyes make Sira give up. Her friend might not be the most stable person there is but - or that’s why - she deserves to be left in peace when asked.

”Yeah. But we’re good, aren’t we?” Sira offers a comical fist bump. Maiev grins, relieved on so many levels, and slams her fist down in accordance to their own version of the gesture. They laugh, relaxed, and hug again.

”Right. I’ll need to go get ready. Let them panties fly, yeah?”

”Hey!!”

With a grin her friend, her _dear_ _old friend_ heads towards the backstage.

 

*****

 

“Oh god, yes, harder, _harder!”_

“Sylvanas, please… I’m embarrassed.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist. The neighboring huts are unoccupied, I checked.” She’s lying on the bed on her stomach, naked except for the panties and oiled thoroughly, grinning over her shoulder almost but not quite apologetically. Anduin’s hands are sliding over her lower back steady, firm, determined. He’s been tasked to help her in the aforementioned cramps that started yesterday but she has not been too specific yet as to what ails her.

 _“God,_ that feels good. Can you just continue this for the duration of the pain? Like, for the whole night maybe?”

“If there’s pain in your back maybe it’s not the best idea to massage it too hard. You should have it checked first.” His hands slide more gently, making her purr.

“It’s not back pain, little lion. I’m on my period. Which is why we might not be able to fully _connect_ this weekend. Unless…” She leans her cheek on her hand and grins playfully, head full of ideas she’s been dying to make a reality for years.

“Oh, right. Why didn’t you say so before?” His hands take a stronger grip and move lower towards her bum. She moans as the downwards push soothes the pain and sends jolts of pleasure through her midsection. She straightens her spine and returns her head on the pillows.

“Good, you are an informed man. Some parents shy away from explaining things.”

“It wasn’t my parents. I was too small when mom was still alive and dad didn’t really talk about anything this… intimate. But I haven’t been skipping my health education classes and, well, some of my classmates are very ...vocal. They claim that as future healthcare professionals we should know how to - “ and here he pushes his oiled thumbs down the tailbone area making her whine in pleasure - “soothe an ache that’s normal and recurrent for half of the population.”

“Oh, yes, oh, they are so right -” His hands slide on her buns and he starts a very thorough kneading on the left gluteus, moving the panties aside just a bit. Every time he presses down through the main muscle Sylvanas moans.

“I’m told this helps as well.” His voice isn’t the only thing that’s thick with need.

“I can… confirm that.” Her lust-filled gasp makes Anduin smile with pride and his aching arousal throb in his tight jeans. Thinking of him massaging anyone else for this specific reason mixes a biting jolt of jealousy to her bliss.

“That would make your practice something between healthcare and legalized erotic service though. I might just have to monopolize you, young man.” She immediately regrets saying it. _I wasn’t supposed to tie him down._

“I can specialize in treating hockey players if that solves anything. I hear they pay well”, the boy teases, clearly catching the small tone of uncertainty in her voice. Sylvanas laughs, hiding the cloud of shame that’s appeared over her happiness. Anduin continues the heavenly treatment, visiting the thigh muscles after the buttocks, oil making him slip close to her groin, accidentally or not.

“So, Miss Windrunner, which part of your body would you like me to attend to next? We have, ummm, an unlimited amount of hours left.” She turns around on her back making the sheets cling to her sticky oiled skin. The young man looks ready to jump on the bed as soon as she says the word.

“That is really up to you this time. Are you ready to embrace blood and gore or should I just take that lovely body part of yours into my mouth? If you choose the latter I might hump against you during the weekend more than usual, though.” She sits up, grinning playfully, hiding her insecurities moderately well. The last time she had suggested this to anyone she was mocked down with expressions of disgust. _Damn you, Arthas. Damn you to frozen hell._

“How about both?” He smiles, eyes dark but shining, cheeks red, hands on his jeans button. _Oh, bless this boy instead._

“Are you sure? Ah, no. Let me rephrase that: if it makes you feel icky in any way, we can stop. Just… let me down gently, OK?”

“If you are fine with it and it doesn’t hurt you - ”

“On the contrary, sex helps with the cramps like magic. Think of it as massage therapy with… special equipment.” Anduin bursts into laughter like he always does with her purposefully bad jokes. She reaches to help him out of his clothes and slides her hand over his beautiful thick magic wand. A small gasp escapes his lips - the first skin contact of the day is always very intense.

“In that case - I’m all for it.”

“My gallant knight.”

Moving on her knees to the edge of the bed she licks the shaft from root to tip and sucks it in gently, just the tip first. She extends her hand towards the oil on the nightstand and takes a drop from the pump bottle. Wetting her lips she lets his cock slide slowly in while she spreads the oil in her palms and takes a hold of Anduin’s firm buttocks when she’s deep enough to reach them. _Oh, to be this fit again._ The blond breathes fast and mouth open, watching her swallow him whole, placing his hands on her shoulders for support. Sylvanas has a fairly good grasp on the basics of massage by now and it’s his turn to get a gluteus maximus treatment - with a bonus. Saliva dripping down her chin she pushes him into her throat again and again with the massaging movements from behind him. His breathy groaning becomes shaky. She unsheathes him and looks up.

“Shall I continue or would you like to get your sword all bloody?”

He laughs, not sure if it’s more funny, surprising or obscene to hear her joke like that, especially with such a seducing voice. He has gotten used to going along with her sometimes dirty humor and somehow gotten accustomed to things he had no idea or experience of before. This isn’t different. He wants to help her feel good and he wants her madly. Letting her lead has been amazing so far. He nods towards the bed and makes a movement to join her there. Sylvanas smiles and gets up, dims the lights for her own comfort, slips out of her panties and brings a towel under them. Untying her top bun she lets her platinum locks fall free over her shoulders. She takes a new dose of oil from the bottle and spreads it on his erection.

Anduin crawls over her, the small ring with a blue stone dangling on a chain around his neck. She welcomes him, haste in her movements, pain returning after the effect of the back rub fades. He notices it and complies gladly, sinking himself in her warmth. Her blissful moaning sigh tells him everything he needs to know as she wraps her arms around him and squeezes him as close as is possible. Her hips push against him even before he moves himself.

“God, _yes…”_

She’s hungry, needy, ferocious. There’s no slow start or teasing, it’s all animalistic thrusting from the go. He’s swept along, the goth lady pressing him down from his bum, grinding against him, setting the savage rhythm. She’s slick but it feels different somehow - not that he has time to register much. Her moans grow wild, she grips his behind and he’s at the edge already.

“Sylvanas… oh god, Sylvanas, I can’t…”

“I know you can - go on - you have plenty - ” And he’s _gone,_ pumping inside her, crying her name in the crook of her neck. She sings the higher part to his tenor, keeping him moving, clawing his back. It’s an unending string of small orgasms for her, the pain dulling the feel but also expanding it. Every thrust feels ecstatic, healing and fighting the pain with equal force, pounding it further away.

“Don’t stop, stay there - ”

“Yes - “

“Jesus that’s good - “ She grabs him by his golden ponytail and their hungry lips meet messily, sliding, nipping, sucking. She tries to let him recharge over the sensitive moment, rocking slowly in their embrace.

“Is it helping?” He smiles, face flushed and loving.

“Yes. Am I being too rough?” She pushes her hips against him. He has softened inside her but she knows it won’t take long for it to swell back to its full girth and length. Her lover starts moving in the slick of their fluids and the Banshee leader loves the feel of gradually being filled again when he does harden back, fast as young men do, and she lets him hear her enjoyment.

“No, I can take a beating”, he grins and thrusts with vigor once more. Her laughter rings like bells, bubbling with the joy of their loving, happy.

The smell of his skin intensified with the fresh sweat fills her senses. It’s dangerous to have fallen for this precious angel. She needs to be ready to release him - and not in this lovely, sweaty way - yet she wants to be fully aware and open, real, in this moment, in this unexpected change in her lonely life she thought written already. Briefly Sylvanas remembers something Kalira said to her: that she should value herself enough to know leaving Anduin would not hurt only her, it would not just free him to ’continue his life’.

The burn in her throat announces the tears too late, she hides in his neck and rocks against him, but her gasp sounds different and Anduin hears it. Searching her face against her feeble attempts to resist he holds her head between his gentle palms.

“What is it?” She shakes her head, smiling, face wet.

“Nothing, just… hormones. Oversensitive. I’m OK. You’re lovely.” She grabs him back in the embrace and urges him to thrust again. In the frenzy of their new rise she whispers into his neck, half hoping it would get swallowed by the loudness of their breathing.

_“I love you.”_

 

*****

 

“Oh, to be young again - no, wait, Cyn’s my age.”

“I’m glad I’m not a kid anymore.” Nathanos takes a slow, tasting swig of the fancy beer he had acquired and hums in his throat, pleased with the taste. The sun’s almost set. He and Kalira are sitting on the open terrace in the middle of the hotel front yard, watching Delaryn being womanhandled over and over again into the lake. Sometimes Cyndia dives after her and they won’t appear back on the pier for a good ten minutes.

“Oh, yeah, totally for some stuff. Like being stupid as hell and not knowing what to do in life. But I wouldn’t mind the energy or the… optimism.”

“Optimism is an American sham. It’s good to be realistically cynical.”

Kalira has let her silvery blonde hair down and she’s slowly twirling a lock around her finger.

“What did you do these ten years? Did you work for other bands or what?”

“You don’t want to hear that.”

“I just asked you. I don’t do small talk.” She cocks her eyebrow and the man grunts, flashing a ghost of a smile.

“I had some small bands to manage but most of them were crap. Some of them failed to pay me after failing their career. Worked on construction sites, as a bouncer and so on. Whatever I could get.” He pauses, then adds: “I even played in one of them myself. Guitar.” He looks briefly at the Banshee lead guitarist and she nods, acknowledging.  

“And you kept clean all that time?” She earns a deathly glare under the dark brows, the lines around his eyes deepening.

“I _never_ did any of that shit we had to pull Sylvanas out of. Not once. It was horrible enough to see them succumb to it like some zombies.” His curt bark tells her so much more what he doesn’t say: disgust, bitterness, pride, sadness, loss. Everyone knew he had soft feelings towards the singer but Sylvanas was so taken and later possessed by Arthas that there was no room for anyone else - or for common sense. Not even when Nathanos was the one always dragging her up from the filthy floors she had passed out on after their numerous drunken or otherwise enhanced break-ups did she consider other partners besides the “Death Knight”.

“Yeah, they did set a good example on what _not_ to do.” She has noted no ring on his fingers, not even a mark for one having been there. _That’s no good, though._ Trying to lighten the mood Kalira walks her fingers like in a puppet-show over the table towards one of the beer cans, flashing a questioning grin for another drink.

“Yeah, go ahead.” His face is honest and relaxed.

“I’ll pay you.” She opens the can with a fizz and tastes the cold ale.

“No need.” He looks like he’s about to say more but then he swallows it with a sip. Their eyes are resting on the lake, no need to watch the other in the face all the time. They are used to this kind of half-comfortable half-silence, just like old times. Kalira has been alone for years now and on this comeback tour an idea, a small teasing fancy has started to grow and poke her heart. First it was just a fleeting thought - in their youth, when Nathanos first came into the crew she had been totally smitten by the brusque, good-looking, no-nonsense guy. She’d found him totally hot carrying the equipment arm muscles bulging, always keeping a level head about things and still being all rock’n’roll in his demeanor and looks.

But he always only had eyes for Sylvanas.

A sort of melancholy fills Kali as she thinks _what if,_ what if she had dared to ask him, or better yet, slap him off his one-sided infatuation and offer him a real relationship - would they have lasted, could they have been more than whatever the short flings and unreliable buddies-with-benefits in her life had been?

Being surrounded by these newly formed couples fills her not with jealousy but with _hope,_ a very rare and new substance to use intravenously. What if she dared now? Could life yet hold surprises for her?

He’s still attractive as fuck. More grumpy and tired-looking and all that, but so’s she. They could compare dark circles around their eyes as foreplay.

“You haven’t talked much about what you do nowadays. I mean - do you live alone? Wife? Cats? Kids?” She’s aware it’s not the most elegant way of getting her answer but she doesn’t really care. Nathanos snorts, incredulous of the first thought that came to his mind. _Nah, don’t be daft._

“I have a dog, a Dobermann. We go hunting sometimes.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Where’s he now?”

“She. Would you believe there are hotels for dogs as well?” The small smile yanking his lip fills Kalira’s chest with warmth. He glances at her and the love for the animal in his eyes is so endearing she can’t but smile back.

“Yeah. That’s cute and also capitalism at its finest.” They both chuckle and chink the cans together for their shared worldview.

“We’ve done well for this tour - well, the band has, and I can afford something as silly as that now. But then again - now I know Betty will get out running twice a day and not be cooped up in some cage.”

“Betty.” Kalira snorts.

“Yeah. Named her after Helmet’s best album ever, the one with the vintage girl on the cover. You don’t even want to know what her registered name is.”

“Tell me when you think I’m ready.”

“What about you then? I see no ring on you either.” He’s not looking straight at her but she feels a shift in the air between them. That’s no mere courtesy question. He’s testing the waters as well. She watches his masculine features in profile, wondering whether the facial hair would tickle or prickle against her thighs.

“Nope. Free as a bird.” _An ostrich or a hawk, that’s to be seen._

 

*****

 

The black-and-green garbed audience yells and stomps for the awaited home team. As a harbinger for The Illidari the stage lights go green and smoke fills the front of the room. A low screech of a bass guitar penetrates everyone’s ears and a silhouette of a tall horned figure looms in the smoke like a biblical monster.

_”You are NOT prepared!”_

”YES, WE ARE!”

The crowd goes nuts. The first chords of the opening song sweep over them slow, deep and hard. Maiev rolls her eyes that are otherwise glued to the figure. _Oh the theatrics._ She’s leaning on the pillar - a certain level of poetry and symbolism must be maintained in this dalliance - but to its side, ready to retreat into the shadow if need be.

The smoke dissipates somewhat and the whole band is now in full view: the other tall and dark, less of a wannabe-alpha-male guitarist, the cool and mysterious-looking keyboardist with her rainbow dreadlocks and Maiev’s beautiful, ferocious, talented friend on the drums.

Illidan stands legs planted wide, hips thrust forward, the low-hanging bass covering his crotch and singing with his low growling trademark voice. Part of his long black hair is tied up on a ponytail between the fake horns but ample strands of it are left cascading loose on his shoulders. Maiev watches him eyes fixed, catching herself thinking how silky his hair would feel flowing through her fingers if she grabbed a handful and _pulled._

_Why the fuck must he be so ridiculously hot? I don’t want to be this fucking stereotype in the crowd drooling over him._

As if that weren’t enough the singer now takes a step back from the mic stand and starts a groovy bass solo. The fingers of his big hands move in a calculated erotic way while not compromising the skill with which he plays, like the instrument were a lover in need of a gentle punishment. The hand on the neck does these typical Jimi Hendrix jerks and while they are a total cliché and Maiev again laughs mockingly, she cannot deny the ever-growing burn in her core. Everything about him, his stance, his size, the masturbatory movements along the bass neck, the small animal noises he sprinkles about his velvety low singing, and the damn corny, sexy lyrics in the damn good mainstreamy metal - everything makes her want to slap and bounce him.

_I hope Sira didn’t tell him I’m here._

”Hello, my little Illidari.” Even his fans are called after the band, like a freaking cult. His voice is a low purr. ”This lovely curvy thing in my hands is my new bass and she’s called ...The Azzinoth.” The cult cheers like the mindless herd they are and Maiev takes solace in her inherent inclination to stay detached from that kind of mass hysteria. Her hysteria is her own, damnit.

The next song starts without the bass and Illidan slings it around his hips hanging off his shoulder behind him like a weapon. He entwines his hands around the mic on the stand like he were about to give it a good sucking and leans his body against the stand. The leather pants licking his toned legs hide very little.

_Oh, fuck me. Why didn’t I bring a change of underwear?_

Maybe one of the first row female fans could lend her some of their throwables. People go bonkers, it’s _My Brother’s Girlfriend._ Maiev’s cheeks are burning for two reasons. The stupid rumor weighs on her conscience though she’s aware of its boosting effect on the single’s success.

 

_”Three’s a crowd if you’re satisfied with one…”_

 

She used to feel jealous - and furious when realizing it - for the song’s dedication to the beautiful but damn annoying and self-righteous ex-bandmate. _Tyrande definitely didn’t appreciate the threesome implications in this ‘masterpiece’._

There go the first flying panties. Illidan lets them fly past him, his remaining free concentration scanning the hall for _her._ The damn stage lights have been directed so that he only makes out shapes and the mass of people. _Well, I’m the boss of the Temple tonight._ When the hit ends and the screaming ceases a bit, he takes a relaxed, conversational tone that drips suggestion like a low cut cleavage.

”Now, isn’t this nice?” More screaming. His fingers caress the mic stand, seemingly absentminded but anyone with half a brain knows he has rehearsed every movement and expression and line.

”You know what? I would like to see _you_ for a change. It’s only fair, you’ve had an eyeful of us the whole time.” Lots of yeeaahhhs and woooos. He flicks his wrist towards the person manning the lights like he’s some sort of a wizard and sure enough the lights turn blindingly towards the audience like on his command. Maiev takes a step back but there are now people behind her and she can hide only partially.

”Weeelll aren’t you all pretty. Hello there.” His low voice hums. High cheers and whistles.

”Right, let’s go.”

The Illidari continue through their most popular songs, the lights turning back illuminating them. Towards the end the singer takes a moment to put down the bass and in the tradition of their almost every gig rips open the t-shirt on him. Nipple piercings and sweat glimmering in the lights he throws the poor abused cloth into the crowd. _It’s the fucking horns, they’d fall if he undressed like a normal person,_ Maiev thinks in a lustful haze as the torn shirt flies straight towards her like in a slow motion film. _What—_

It lands at her feet and some eager fangirl picks it up, cheering and waving it in front of her. The scent emanating off the piece of cloth registers in her vagina first, brain reacts with delay. It’s a good thing the place is so noisy, her escapee whimper is swallowed in and gone unnoticed.

_God, I’m so done._

So he must have spotted her then. The guy sings even more obscenely, low murmur caressing everyone’s ears like a spell. He is rocking his leather-clad hips against the mic stand and _god is that a boner kill me now._

”I hope we have satisfied you tonight. This will be the last one.” He nods to Altruis while the women in the band slip into the background and leave. The lights dim into a dark, intimate red.

A slow guitar riff starts almost funk-like, swaying. It’s clearly a version of the Banshees song bit he used in that first _message_ and Maiev is about to yell ”rip-off” when the melody changes slightly, making it an almost-but-not-quite case. _What the hell ass?_ Her lower tummy is knotted tight in horror and aching for this last hour of being so horny.

Illidan all but fornicates with the mic stand and starts a low moan. People scream but are also more silent than before, the unknown song tempting them to actually listen this time. It’s a slow one, almost like reading a poem, pauses filled with sighs and erotic hisses between the lines and some words.

 

_”Slice me, bite me, it won’t calm us down;_

_Hunt me, fight me, try and tame me;_

_The beast inside me breaks every cage;_

_My last name would suit your rage.”_

 

During the last two words he momentarily points a finger - his whole tattooed, muscular arm really - towards the pillar she is trying to hide behind. Then he flips The Azzinoth around to his front and starts a sweet solo that melts the whole club, swaying his hips in rhythm with the bass. Maiev is staring at him in a stupor and trying to catch her breath.

_Did ...he just fucking propose?_

The cheering and clapping is deafening. The lights go out damning the whole hall in darkness. “See you soon”, Illidan says in the microphone and the band leaves the stage for good. _He’s never said that before, he never says anything once the last song ends._ The DJ for the rest of the night starts playing music you can jump upright and bang your head to. A portion of the crowd starts queuing to leave, some stay and queue for drinks.

 _Oh you bastard._ All the gritting of teeth won’t make the overwhelming magnetic pull and tickle of anticipation go away. And the thing is… her location is right in front of the backstage door that’s guarded by a grumpy looking ogre of a man. And she chose the place herself.

 

 


	12. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I gave up: In this anomaly of a chapter there’s only one couple this time, the delicious side dish of ILLIDAN & MAIEV because the buggers have filled my head. Hopefully after getting this out of my system I can find my way back to the others as well - I know I will. But danggg these two, amirite?

 

A tight burning feeling in her gut Maiev forces herself to move and goes to the Black Temple’s bathrooms. The women’s side is decorated like a brothel, she thinks, swiping aside some tacky red chiffon curtains that block her way in. The weight of the decision in front of her presses her heart and makes her head ache - and her loins tingle. She huffs in frustration as she tries to wipe her totally creamed panties with toilet paper in the cubicle. It’s useless, her arousal has almost reached the jeans as well. And yet somehow she doesn’t care about the mess so much, just going through motions in an attempt to calm herself. And to have time to decide.

 _He is there. He’s waiting for me._ Visions of Illidan’s recent public hip thrusting against his bass guitar make her feel them on her core and she almost moans at the pang.

_Fuck it. Literally._

Five minutes later she’s back at the spot where she had been during the concert. Dancing - if you can call the flailing and bouncing that - people have filled the club hall. The huge security guard at the backstage door is motioning some fans away, explaining The Illidari have left already and won’t give out autographs. The feeling of a huge cold stone dropping from her throat to the bottom of her stomach makes Maiev gasp. _They left?_ The disappointed faces of the rejected girls are nothing compared to her agony. She watches as they walk past her. One of them has yellow-golden hair, long and flowing, the sort that you only get by bleaching and adding shock dye. Maiev hears her talk softly like a lay preacher about Light and Shadow. _Ugh, fanatics. The fuck they are doing in a metal concert?_

Her eyes are drawn to movement behind the doorman. The backstage door is opened ajar. The man turns and apparently someone says something to him, he nods and returns to his post. Is she imagining things or did the bouncer just glance at her? Her whole body tingles, flowing and ebbing between excitement, disappointment, fear, lust, anger, frustration.

Then the door is opened completely and she sees him. There’s a straight corridor and Illidan is there. Just standing, arms crossed and watching her across the distance.

 _Oh, curse that pompous ass. How could I even…_ At least he put on a t-shirt. And took the damned horns off.

Her feet have decided on her behalf and she finds herself facing the doorman who looks her up and down and flashes a suggestive grin. The smouldering contempt in Maiev’s irate eyes wipes it off and he almost bows, letting her pass.

 

***

 

Illidan watches her hesitate, looking like she would either kill someone or start running but when she walks briskly to the opened door his heart leaps. In his pants. With a twitch. He chuckles at the almost imperial rage on her face when she meets the “Ogre”. It’s the man’s own fault for being a pig. Illidan had tried to lecture him once about equality and how he shouldn’t leer at the female fans like he did but to no avail. Old dogs cannot be trained, it seems. He would have liked to see his face when confronted with the fury of _that woman._

After the gig he had rushed to the showers backstage, dismissing his band saying he was meeting a buddy. Altruis might have been rolling his eyes but he was too excited to care. He had been glowing and burning with adrenaline, with the energy he always got from the devout crowd but this time the thrill of expectation topped them all. Washing the sweat off with hot water and using his favorite conditioner on his long dark hair Illidan had hummed the new song and tried not to let his impatience and nervousness peak.

He had no certainty she would accept his invitation - she was proud as a queen, surpassing him easily in that department. And all these minutes used here might let her slip away again.

But he couldn’t rush it. It would have to be her decision.

And now there she is, mere steps away watching him in the corridor. Her whisper is husky and raw, like she had been screaming before getting here.

“Where are the rest?”

Illidan nods towards a closed door on his left and at the same time opens another opposite it. His green eyes look into her, trying to communicate his pure intentions of friendliness and freedom of choice and equality and tempting her to jump his bones. Some of the messages get through.

She knits her brows, visibly calculating her escape routes, it seems.

“We can go sit with them if you prefer it?” He sounds sincere but his eyes look hopeful - for refusal, in this.

She hides a shiver at his voice sliding over her neck and upper back like a velvet glove. Yeah, it has a life of its own, as a reptile of sorts. She’s through the opened door faster than she would have liked for him to see. Turning around in the unoccupied break room she registers an old leather sofa, side tables, bar stools, refrigerator. There’s a small window at the back. Illidan inhales deep and leans his back on the door that shuts with a click. He isn’t sure what he thought would happen after this bit was reality. His heart is pounding in his ears and he wonders whether or not she can hear it.

But he feels he at least needs to act the host like he is, being in his hometown and all.

“I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves properly.”

“You _know_ my name.” She still sounds angry, looking a bit defensive in her posture. Her long silver bleached hair is on a peculiar top braid that puzzles Illidan and he wants to ask how on earth she manages tying that. It suits her. She’s so damnably beautiful with her high cheekbones, long eyelashes and those luscious lips he would so much want to taste right now. Her huge sweater hides her slender but curvy figure that he has seen on stage. He stops the roam of his lusting eyes and tries to add the usual confidence and purr in his voice.

“Yes. _Maiev.”_ To hear it from his lips makes her bite in a sigh. It’s intolerable how her composure crumbles around him. _I’m a strong adult woman, damnit! And he’s… he’s a…_ She closes her eyes and lets the desire wash over her, waiting for it to settle if not pass. Illidan can feel it. There’s magic to being in the proximity of someone who shares your feelings, be it almost anything from mutual understanding over damn good music or a political view. But this magic right here is the mightiest of all, fueled by the eternal laws of nature and flesh but still not being entirely of them. Their desire for each other could be described as nearing spiritual if it wasn’t manifested so agonizingly in their very physical need to hump.

They could stay there without saying a word and they would still feel like communicating.

Maiev opens her eyes and lets them roam on her opponent who’s still leaning against the door. His strong jawline is void of any facial hair, his handsome nose looks like it might have gotten punched one time or another in the past but that only adds to his attraction. His long hair looks damp, it’s combed perfectly and shines darkness like his soul. The fresh t-shirt is green, with a weird sort of fish-mutant creature printed on it. Must be from a comic or something. The mouth-watering nipple piercings are again prominent through the thin fabric - why does the bugger have to wear such tight shirts, did he buy the whole stock before he started pumping iron? His tattoos slither under the sleeves over his muscles. When Maiev’s gaze reaches his light brown army pants it doesn’t really matter that they aren’t the obscenely tight leather ones he had while performing. He is as shameless as on stage when it comes to hiding the protrusion of his turgid wang. His hips are even tilted a bit forward.

She realizes she is breathing through her mouth. She snaps her lips closed and her eyes up to his. The smug look on him makes her want to slap him around the infuriatingly handsome face but she tried that already before and needs to train some new tactics. Preferably in the boxing gym.

 _Preferably in bed with him,_ her betrayer of a vagina whispers.

Illidan takes a deep breath and steps off the door making her jolt. But he walks past her, not to her and not too close, to the fridge.

“You want something to drink? They seem to have beer, cider and water here. Also some fruit and snacks. I believe you preferred bananas.” His tone is playful, he’s recovered from the first shock of actually being considered a mate. Maybe. Possibly. If he plays this well.

“You can shove it --” she starts before thinking and Illidan cocks his head, amused. _Do tell, I will shove it anywhere you want._ He’s glad he didn’t say it aloud, the woman looks angry again. She swallows and tries to calm herself.

“Beer, please.” She doesn’t want the drink but anything to distract her mind is welcome.

Illidan takes out two bottles, opens them and steps in front of her. _He’s so tall,_ her mind chirps as his nearness starts working like a spell. Slowly he places both beers on a side table beside them, pushing the other closer to her, not leaving her eyes. He feels his heartbeat in his throat when he speaks.

“I don’t really feel like drinking though.”

Maiev closes her eyes, inhales and exhales, her heartbeat as relentless as his. _Neither do I._

She opens her eyes and unfolds her arms from the defensive posture. Her hands are shaking. She sees Illidan is not moving, only watching her from his heights and letting her decide if they take the step. That is actually admirable, she realizes, even when it’s also annoyingly calculated and supposed to be regarded as gentlemanly. _I guess he has no choice when it comes to me,_ says a surprisingly clear insight in her head. Her hand trembling she starts to reach towards him but then stops.

“Is the door locked?”

Eyebrow comically raised the hunk chuckles. “You’re thinking further than I’d hoped.”

“I didn’t mean - ughhh - why do you have to be such an ass all the time?” Illidan goes to the door, checks the knob, verifies the door is indeed locked and comes back, nodding.

“But am I wrong?” With the low rumble of his voice he moves closer than he was standing before, taunting her, seething masculinity. Maiev doesn’t answer but breaks the block of ice that has been her hesitation. She slams her palm on his abs like blocking him from moving closer, her eyes following her hand in fear of his gaze, brows knit. His body heat, heartbeat and tightness of the muscles under her fingers she stays there trying to get accustomed to it, trying to overcome the wall that’s between her rage-masked insecurities and what she wants. The tension that’s been there the whole night is starting to weigh like a hard day’s work on her nerves.

“No. You’re not wrong.”

She looks up at the darkened eyes of her enemy and she has no idea why she’s regarding him as one. Her lips open to breathe, to maybe say something more - but she doesn’t know what on earth there would be to say in this moment - and the pressure in her core coils tighter when she rises on tiptoe climbing his chest like a sloping wall and he is unleashed, grabbing her sweater-covered waist with his burning hands, making her whine at the touch a second before his open lips crash on hers.

Oh, how hungry he is.

The pressure unravels and explodes to fill Maiev’s whole being in pulsating heat. Illidan lets out a guttural sound that hits her in her weakest spot and her knees buckle when their tongues clash. She grabs his shoulder and neck through the silky hair for support and deepens the kiss without any hesitation anymore. She feels as if she could fly or detonate right this instant. Their fast, gasping breaths through their noses fill the room. Illidan tries to hold himself back as much as he can - he had planned to give her time and space and patience but now that she’s all but mounting him his resolve is starting to weaken. When Maiev bites his lower lip he’s a goner. She hears a low growl before she’s slammed to the wall and her pent-up lust and frustration and anger all cheer in unison as there’s now an excuse to _fight._ Illidan’s hand is on her abdomen, right between her breasts, holding her in place. He looks at her for a moment eyes almost black, lip swollen from her bite, chest heaving, and then he dives back in as she grabs his ears and pulls him on her mouth. Her fingers slide into his hair and she sucks his tongue like she wanted to eat him alive which isn’t very far from the truth. Illidan presses his whole body against hers, captures her wrists against the wall and dares to push his hips up.

She cries in his mouth, and again, and again, and again he grinds against her until she rips her lips off his to gasp for breath and being crucified by his strong hands she can only receive what he gives her, aggressively, through their clothes, in under a minute of the first contact. Maiev lifts both her legs around his hips, on his gorgeous, trim ass that she would slap right now if she could reach it.

“God, yes, oh _fuck,_ yes, yes -!” Illidan silences her with his mouth, kissing licking sliding biting deep as she bucks her hips against his thick erect length and comes harder than she ever has, the exploding purring euphoric relaxation replacing all the angsty tension in her.

“My god, Maiev”, Illidan rasps against her lips. She’s panting, eyes cast low, still throbbing. She drops her feet back to the floor - and begins to panic. Welp, that didn’t take long. The thing is, even if she’s old enough to have had a decade of sexually active time Maiev has been single most of her life and only had some brief unsatisfying encounters - and one moderately bad one - with random people. Until now. _Dear lord yes until fucking now._

She has no idea how to reciprocate. Or how to do it without somehow surrendering herself in the situation. What if he wants her to do something more? Here, in this place? Oh, she’d want so much more as well but the thought of revealing her comparative inexperience at this age mortifies her. If she were drunk it would be so much easier. Wallowing in embarrassment she tugs at her wrists impatiently and after a moment’s puzzlement Illidan releases them, stepping back.

“Are you alright?” He sounds genuinely worried and that irritates the blonde guitarist even more. She can’t look him in the face, feeling ridiculous for letting her guard down, letting him see her in such a weak state.

 _But why regret, though? You loved it, he loved it, he likes you,_ says the little wise voice in her head. She doesn’t know and she dashes for the door pushing past him.

“Maiev, wait - ” He sounds almost desperate. She tries to yank the door open but it’s locked. She gnarls through her teeth and doesn’t turn back towards him.

_“Open this.”_

“It’s open.” She hates the disappointment in his voice, hates to have been the one to cause it, and that’s new. Shouldn’t she enjoy torturing the bastard?

“You’ve locked it. Let me out.”

“No, I - “ He walks to the door and looming behind her back tries the handle too, to no effect. It’s locked. “Oh. Well that wasn’t my intention. I don’t have the key, I just sort of claimed the room as it was empty.” He grins apologetically but no-one sees it.

“Don’t make me laugh, I’m not going to swallow that for a second.” She’s still leaning her forehead on the door not wanting to face him.

“Maiev.” It travels up her spine and tingles in her neck, and he repeats it. _“Maiev._ You know it would be incredibly distasteful to force anyone in any way. That’s not my style.” She knows he’s telling the truth and it mortifies her even more. She’s trembling with frustration and everything being so complicated. And to her horrified and/or otherwise amazed surprise the previous orgasm didn’t wipe away the tension. It’s creeping back with every touch of breath she feels on her revealed shoulder - the sweater is oversized and droops a bit - and every second that she feels his huge warm frame behind her, so very close. Illidan lays his hands on her shoulders.

 _“Sshh,_ calm down. I swear I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” A whine escapes her lips at the skin contact and she twitches. He pulls her softly towards himself and she fights him.

“Yeah but now you just want --”

His whisper is right by her ear, dripping honey and all other delicacies. _“Yes. Yes I do. I want you and you love it.”_ The returning arousal has such force she doesn’t have time to suppress the gasp. Illidan very lightly presses his persistent erection against her bum. _“What are you afraid of?”_ And then he’s off and she misses the touch immediately. Maiev hears the creak of the leather couch at the opposite wall. Inhaling, she turns around.

Illidan is sitting legs wide like the most annoyingly manly men do. She has come to a conclusion the testicles need cool air not to shrivel or something. Her snide thoughts don’t quell her reawakened lust at all and her eyes devour everything they see, his slapworthy face, his broad chest, the strong arms, the sizeable bulge under the thick cotton of the trousers. He leans his arms wide on the back rest.

_I can’t let him be in charge. But why the fuck do I like it so much whenever it happens? I’m doomed._

The man lets her feast her eyes knowing very well the effect of his looks. Shifting his hips forward like it was just about a better position on the sofa he smirks while balancing the smugness with apologetic gesturing of his hand.

“I didn’t want to be imprisoned here with you either. But I do admit the situation has its ...advantages.” He’s not acting now like he does on stage though some of the mannerisms seem to be a part of his personality. He’s blazing hot yet totally amiable. Maiev has a short emergency conference in her head.

_Right, get a hold of yourself. I want him, yes? Hell yes. He’s totally available whenever I want, at least for now. Then why not now? Because of shabby room that’s inside a club and people might barge in. Is that the only reason to refuse the absolutely appetizing sex that’s being offered here? No, but I need to keep control. Or what? He would think he owns me. But look, he’s giving me the reins again, isn’t he? Yeah, but that’s the point, he’s giving them and he shouldn’t have had them in the first place. But I too have control over him, don’t I? I might, but I’m not sure how to use it. And he’s being nice too, see? Yeah, I have been an ass again but I bloody well cannot admit that! Why not? Because he’d then have power over me. Well, how do any of the relationships ever work then, do I really think all couples just fight about power all the time?_

Relationships.

“I... want to ask you something.” She tries to school her voice and not snap like she usually does.

“Please, do.”

“Tyrande.” Hearing the name makes Illidan’s dark brow twitch in annoyance and that actually answers her more than his words ever would.

“No, we did _not_ have a threesome.”

“I didn’t think you… uh, yeah. _No._ Did you cheat on her?”

“That’s… a very intimate question. No I did not. And we were together like a month until she… yeah. No idea where that rumor came from.” _Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch._ Maiev would like to bite the head off of her past self typing that drunken message.

“Do you still… care about her?”

“I call her _Tyrant_ among friends, does that tell you enough of my feelings?” She laughs at that, first in a relieved kind of way, then continues laughing at the fitting nickname. She does look like that in all the videos. To his absolute credit even when he’s irritated to talk about the subject he doesn’t seem to rush them away from it nor is he showing any negativity towards her for talking instead of fucking his brains out. Her subconscious picks this but she’s half clueless about it. Illidan joins in, realizing that making her laugh is even more enjoyable than making her furious. He leans forward, his arms against his thighs making him look more friendly than seducing.

“Maiev. I’m not looking for a one night stand, you do know that?”

“I’m not marrying you on the spot either.” A smile tugs at her lip. Her posture leaning against the locked door has relaxed.

“Hah, that! How did you like it?”

“It was… passable.”

“Riiight… I’ll be coming to see your gig tomorrow. You think you’ll play flawlessly this time?”

“Oh you b---” she stops realizing he’s playing _her._ “I will, you’ll see.”

“Really looking forward to that torturing of the poor Fender. Very savage and primitive.”

“Says a guy who fornicates with a _demon_ on stage.”

“You -- you know who Azzinoth is?” The childish joy on his face is something she has never seen.

“Yeah, I used to play D&D too. Not much, but I remember _him.”_

Illidan laughs, delighted. He had feared the lust would have been the only connection between them - which isn’t a small part of life, it just doesn’t take very far - but he figures if he’s somehow patient enough she might reward him with trust and show more of this side of her he also likes.

He resigns himself to a night of _self-care,_ as it were. But not before making her go down the same path. He leans back on the couch and takes his phone from the thigh pocket.

“I guess we should get that door opened, eh?”

“Wait.”

“You wanted out, didn’t you?”

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like you were an assailant earlier.” Illidan raises an eyebrow at that but swallows his first quip.

“If you’re uncomfortable with _this,_ what we did, there’s no need to hurry. I’ll wait for you.” He nudges his hips forward and spreads his thighs but is innocently searching for someone’s phone number on the mobile. He licks the side of his parted lips like deep in thought, humming and massaging his neck briefly, sliding his fingers down his collarbone. Maiev recognizes a show when she sees one and devours every bit of the corny seduction while his eyes are on the phone.

Illidan means what he said but his balls are so angry at his gallant behaviour they swear revenge for their master. Unbeknownst - or at least not verified - to them Maiev’s quim agrees with its co-stars with equal rage and throbs violently. Still, the honourable way of giving her room, time and the last word adds to her desire. And to some other, deeper feeling she’s not going to poke at any time soon. She feels a burden lift off her, not sure why.

“Right. I’ll call someone to open -”

“No!”

“Do decide, tsundere.”

“Hey?! I meant… I don’t want Sira to know.” Illidan’s face shows surprise and disappointment and she forces herself to add: _“Not yet.”_ There, she sealed it. A small smile, not smug or annoying this time, tugs at Illidan’s lips. And instead of anger at her so-called surrender she feels a tingling rise of joy, a sort of promise of near future with wonderful encounters. It’s up to her _how_ near in the future those might start. Could life be more than just a streak of frustrating events between drinks?

“She’s your friend?”

“She is.” A happy smile remembering their reconciliation warms Maiev’s face.

“She’s a damn good drummer. Alright, come here. I’ll toss you out that window and _then_ call for help.”

 

 


	13. By the Side of the Ocean Headed for Sunset

 

_It’s dark and the air is filled with thick mist. Sylvanas is on a slippery road that’s covered in ice. Horribly disfigured Arthas chases her in slow motion, forever._

_”You will join me in death soon.”_

_Walls of ice appear from nowhere and she has to find a way around them or hack them down to proceed. This goes on and on._

“Sylvanas!”

_Zombies rise from the ground and run towards her. “There’s nothing left of him”, she hears Jaina say._

“Sylvanas! It’s just a bad dream, wake up!”

“Jaina!” She opens her eyes, cold sweat on her forehead. Anduin is confused now. Her aunt has a very rare name and he has never met anyone else with it.

“What happened? Who’s that?” The young man has been sleeping beside the goth singer who has gotten used to it - or rather, she always falls asleep first and they have agreed he will sneak beside her once she’s out cold.

“Ugh… it was Arthas. Damn.”

“I have nightmares too, about my father.” He holds the beautiful, delicate woman, twice his age but smaller than him, in his embrace to soothe the horrors away. She snuggles closer and sighs while listening to the boy’s pleasant voice. “My aunt is named Jaina, funny you should know one too.”

With the incidents of nephew Arator and uncle Baine still fresh in their minds they look each other in silence, then start laughing.

“Yeah, it’s probably the same person. Let’s just go through everyone we know to be sure. Arthas and I went to the same high school until he dropped out to form the band. Our schoolmate Jaina Proudmoore went out with him a couple of times before that, before Arthas and I started… but she was a good girl unlike me and demanded a ring and other conventions before proceeding.” She chuckles darkly, a hint of malice in her voice. “He wouldn’t have that, of course, so they quit it. She’s probably a happy mother of three by now or something.” She touches her ring dangling from Anduin’s neck.

“Two, actually.”

 _“Oh lord._ The planet cannot be this small.”

“She’s still a ‘good girl’ as you put it, very devout in fighting the global warming and fossil energy companies. I’ve learned a lot from her.”

“I can see that now. I need to get better at recycling lest you scold me again.” For a moment the old insecurities, of being a misfit and different from the ones deemed good darkens her horizon. Even after becoming successful in the moderately defined yet dedicated circles - and enough to put the little amount of food on her table that she is willing to eat - sometimes she still questions if she should have tried to be “like the others”. The notion is ridiculous and the peer pressure of youth is one living hell no person should have to squeeze through, yet what other way is there to arrange the world? She’s aware of her merits, her skills and her rare gifts, and still at the same time the ghost of inadequacy sometimes catches and trips her face first on the party cake of self-doubt. This is why her joking here in the arms of her young golden-haired lover sounds surprisingly bitter.

 _“Hey._ Don’t worry about it. I can dive your dumpsters any day gladly.” Sylvanas bursts into laughter.

“You can’t say it like - _oh god_ \- that almost sounded like a very bad euphemism for -- oh never mind.” _Not going to say anything about that to this pure angel boy. Not yet anyway._

“How are you feeling, do you need another session on your backside? Or anything else?” Anduin looks mischievous and more confident by the day and suddenly the singer isn’t sure he’s so clueless after all. His hands have been slowly caressing her neck and arms all platonic and friendly yet he could be touching the heel of her foot and she’d still feel it was erotic. There’s this powerful magic in his hands.

“I wouldn’t mind a little more internal treatment. Hang on.” She grins and saunters legs still half asleep to the bathroom. The young man watches her go, feeling himself hardening under the sheets.

_You love me._

He dare not bring that up yet for fear of scaring the woman away. He has started to see the fragility under her mask and it makes him love her even more.

 

*****

 

With a new, uncharacteristic spark Maiev wakes up and is immediately full of energy. Sure, part of the energy is anxiety or at least hints of excitement with scary undertones, but mostly it’s just eagerness to step into the day and see what it has to offer. What the hell? Usually she just slams the alarm on snooze and tucks herself deeper under the blankets. Today her eyes are open and wide, no sleep lingering. What linger though are the memories from yesterday - and her sticky underwear. She groans and laughs by herself remembering all that happened, looking for her phone among the pile of clothes.

Like Illidan had suggested they had opened the small window in the locked-up break room and Maiev had had to take off her oversized sweater so it wouldn’t get torn on the frames. She was slim enough to fit through it but it had been a comical and tricky manoeuver all the same. He had made her go legs first even if it meant showing her jeans-clad ass to a possible passer-by. She had seen how his darkened eyes rested on her body, now covered only with a tight sleeveless top and the skinny jeans. Somehow his promise to wait for her decision had freed her to enjoy instead of fight that and she had relished his admiring gaze. In the end Maiev had dangled from the grip of his hands as he lowered her enough so she could drop to the ground unharmed. Illidan had handed her her stuff and they had just grinned, cheeks red for many a reason, through the window for a while. There was the promise, the “date” today, so she just kind of took off after a moment. She made it to the last bus in good time.

And during the long bus ride she had cursed herself repeatedly for not daring to go through with it. _What the hell, girl? It’s what you’ve wanted for ages!_ She’d almost slipped her fingers into her jeans right there in the bus seat.

The Sunspring Post yard had been dark and silent when she finally arrived at 3 am. Red and blue bikinis hung drying on the pier and she smiled at them. In her room she tried to sleep but his face, his voice, his smell and touch kept flowing into her consciousness, the funny things they had talked bouncing around in her head.

_I like him. Who would have thought?_

Maiev had then taken her phone and clicked _follow_ on _HornGod’_ s IG page. There was nothing new yet but now she’d get the alerts. After tonight they were _familiar_ enough for her to admit she checked the page, she giggled to herself and rubbed herself to a relaxing orgasm thinking of Illidan’s little private performance and how - _hnngh_ \- he had got her off just like that against the wall.

It had been her favourite fantasy for years. _I guess he noticed it that other time._ It bodes well him being so attentive. She slept soundly after that.

There’s an alert on her phone, not of a new post but a real private message. She’s grinning before she realizes and her whole being tingles with excitement while she opens it.

 _“Hope you sleep better than me, I’m still up… not for long tho ;)”_ The time stamp is 3:49, around the time she fell asleep. Should she assume a double entendre in that or not? But why the heck not, _she_ had wanked to his image and she was the only one of them who had been... _done_ in their encounter. Oh lord, she hasn’t thought about this before but now it’s _real_ and it hits her in the loins with a force _._ They met. Illidan wanted her madly, just like she wanted him - and then he was left with a huge, rock-hard, throbbing, unyielding erection when they had parted. She’d noticed it was still there, in full vigor under the clothes, when he had helped her out the window. His hands had brushed her waist and his eyes had been dark but he had been a perfect friend-like gentleman.

Of course he had masturbated later that night. He must have. While thinking of _her._

Quite possibly at the same time as she did herself.

Groaning Maiev starts thinking up a reply while her fingers dance around her clit again. How many times is it even possible to come in a day? The need seems like an endless resource now.

 

*****

 

Delaryn lies on her cabin bed, awake with a wide smile on her face. She’s glad to have the morning to herself, to think through and taste and remember and mull over all the exciting things that happened last night. They had decided to sleep in their own rooms with Cyndia - not because of the others, they probably knew about them already, but for being a bit careful about boundaries and space. Somehow some time alone seems to sweeten this new blossoming thing.

That’s not to say they had been in any hurry to part. She had sneaked to her room around 4 am.

What Cyndia had told her intrigued and excited her mind - oh, and via that, her body - immensely. She had heard of domination and submission, of course, but it had just been this titillating remote thing in steamy romance novels.

Yet in the older banshee’s hands she had found out she might be somewhat more into it than she knew. Oh, her hands, damn. Del feels she needs to up her game, some things require improving and… investigating.

 _But I guess she’ll tell me what to do even if I don’t ask,_ she grins to herself, stretching like a content cat.

 _I’m sure Kalira knows, even if Cyn doesn’t tell her._ And Maiev, she too was there when they were horseplaying at the beach. And while they were out of sight under the pier half submerged in the lake… _Ohh boy._ They had kissed endlessly, wet and slippery from the water and otherwise, relishing in the charged feel between them. Cyndia had slipped her fingers in her bikini top a few times but mostly she had just played, teased, gotten her all riled up - and then pushed her again in the water. Del had paid back as much as she was able and being very agile from her sports and archery hobbies - _and being so much younger than Cyn, lol_ \- she had managed to trip the redhead in the lake twice.

Mostly she enjoyed being tossed and bossed about so she didn’t try her hardest yet. Maybe one day she would.

When they got back to Cyndia’s cabin they had lain on her bed, side by side, not touching and she had told her about her preferences, just like that. Del noticed the older one was nervous despite their wonderful day and the strong feeling that hadn’t subsided at all. That made her even more enthralled as well as the subject they started discussing. Cyndia didn’t use any teasing nicknames or emphasize their age difference or anything that had been their usual banter - making a definite line between serious talk and casual playtime.

They now have a _safeword._ Delaryn had never heard of such a thing. She laughs by herself, delighted. It feels like a secret promise, like an engagement of sorts, to swear power over a simple silly word.

Suddenly having had enough of her own private time Delaryn stands up and picks up the phone.

 

*****

 

“Where _is_ everyone?”

“I don’t know. Shagging?” Nathanos pours himself dark roasted coffee and a smile yanks his moustaches when he hears Kalira snort behind him in the breakfast queue.

“Yeah, probably. Maybe Maiev picked someone on her trip.” A flashing thought of herself and Nat in bed makes Kali shudder delightfully while his hoarse, sarcastic voice caresses her ears. She’d like to hear that voice closer. Maybe under her earlobe while he tries not to moan too loud. _Yeah. Why the heck not us too?_

“Oh, she definitely had a _look_ on her when she left last night.”

“That would be mighty fine, she’s been so snarky lately.”

The guitarist gathers some fruit and toast on her tray, picking them slowly, enjoying the variety. Then she feels his gaze and looks up. Nathan is watching her, almost smiling, holding his tray like he had stopped mid-step.

“What?”

“...nothing.”

“Come, spill now.”

_“Spoonman.”_

“Oh.” She hadn’t realized she had been humming out loud. They choose a window table with a view to the sunlit retreat yard and both savour their hot coffees like some nectar of the gods. It’s comfortable just hanging together like this, calm and with no rush. But the new underlying tension makes everything so precious, like someone had enhanced the colors of the world and done tricks to the perceived time. Kalira feels the moments in the company of the dark handsome manager somehow deeper, more detailed, more focused. Every small gesture and word has more weight than before. But does he feel the same?

While the woman in front of him watches out of the window Nathanos has a chance to look at her for a bit longer. It’s different than before, the way they are together. He had feared some lingering feelings for Sylvanas before they all met again after the years apart, and sure, he had been momentarily captivated by her presence, beauty and especially her newfound self-esteem. But soon he’d realized just how far away their youth was - not even in years or how things were now but how that burning feeling and devotion had withered and somehow framed itself into a painting, a frozen spark of memory. Nathan still took the responsibility of the band as a given calling but that was it. He loved them, loved Sylvanas as a peer, as a friend and a co-worker. The feeling didn’t have the burn anymore.

Her picking that _boy_ as her lover would have been the last nail to the coffin lid if he had had any remnants of yearning left.

Now seeing Kalira again and spending time with her - they both sort of slotted into the role of caretakers and organizers of the gaggle of bandmates - made him remember some occasions from before. Had she been interested in him back then? He couldn’t quite recall it but something in the way she sometimes now looked at him or joked - dare he call it flirting? - connected to her behaviour almost twenty years before.

She feels familiar, an old friend, coming from the same background as him - that already ties him to her better than to any of his flings. It’s so easy not needing to explain things or to have that annoying but unavoidable wall between genres - or genders. Their working and otherwise being together feels equal, natural and enjoyable. And he finds her very attractive, a bit more each day, even each hour.

“What?” She catches him looking at her and it might just be too late to cover it seeing her lopsided smile and the pleased shine in her eyes. But why hide it, though? She seems interested and they’re both free.

“We have several hours before you need to be at the stage. Wanna do something?” He pauses, takes a totally poker faced slow sip of his coffee, letting the ambivalence of his suggestion sink, then adds, voice a bit lower: “Go somewhere or I don’t know… swim?” He cocks his dark eyebrow just slightly.

That makes Kalira laugh out loud, both delighted and nervous, her skin tingling all over. Her blonde hair swings on the high ponytail as her head moves. Both of them are thinking about the way Del and Cyn were abusing the notion of _swimming_ last night. So it begins, eh?

“Yeah, why not? Did you pack your swimsuit?”

_“No.”_

 

*****

 

Illidan wakes up to find the message on his screen. His morning wood reacts synchronized with his grin, eager and pleased. After the toilet he’s hard again in minutes. This glee is more than just a joy of a hunt or a successful seduction. Maiev is difficult and challenging, and so tempting and _just perfect_ he can’t but think back to his admission to Akama. Never has he been so profoundly and all-round captivated by anyone.

And her sense of humor that’s gradually peeking under her dissolving defenses is pure delight.

_“I never sleep immediately after playing tho I wonder if your public lewdness keeps you up even later. The shame”_

He types the answer immediately, lying on his side, palming his wang.

_“I never feel shame. I can help you with your after-gig adrenaline tonight if you like”_

Guessed or hoped at but ultimately unbeknownst to him Maiev reads it and almost whines out loud. She’s in the middle of getting herself off and _HornGod’s_ teasing is the perfect fuel for her lust. Images of Illidan banging her in some backstage room, herself still being all sweaty and hyped up after a performance, his long dark hair falling on her hastily exposed breasts, her legs around his rapidly moving hips...

He cannot see her and won’t get any certainty about her actions so she’s safe from her real-time inhibitions but can still enjoy the arousing knowledge of a connection to him… She _could_ give him veiled hints, of course, ones that cannot be verified if for some reason she ever were questioned about cybering with her yet apparent enemy.

_“You must mean beer”_

_“We never drank them”_

Being reminded of that moment yesterday when she let go and pushed past all her rage and fears by jumping him makes her finally moan. God, he was so infuriatingly _hot,_ just waiting there inches from her, smelling so damn good and being so fucking smug and handsome. Her fingers circle her bud, slippery and early morning sensitive, like she hadn’t just done this last night. Illidan wonders the same on his end, his oiled fist sliding tightly over his thick length. Typing with one hand is slow but Maiev manages.

_“Yeah I don’t want a drink that much anymore”_

_”Good. I offer something more solid”_

Oh god, that arrogant bastard! And clever with the dual definition. She was almost there, so so close, and the thought - the memory - of his _solid_ erection grinding against her drops her into the vortex of pleasure.

This time she wants him to know it. But she’s not going to tell.

Not straightforward, anyway.

_”I remember tangibly. Keeping that in mind”_

One could interpret that in the most obvious, abstract way, as a discussion about the form of their potential relationship, or dismiss it as just a phrase. Because of that one word choice though Illidan decides to read it as Maiev thinking of his boner and the way he pushed it against her and how she was so wonderfully loud and cursing in her climax and probably was heard through the door -- and he’s shooting into his saving palm, spilling over the fingers of his grip, grunting and sighing deep in the memory of the scent of her skin.

There’s still some left for the night if she so wishes.

 

*****

 

“You seem hungrier than yesterday, rookie.”

 _“God!_ No, listen to me. I have the _safeword_ and I’m not afraid to use it if you leave me like this any longer.” Delaryn silences her lover with a devouring kiss, pinning her down on the bed with her arms and legs. She loves the softness of her lips so much and she lets her body slide over the other’s like she imagines the so-called exotic masseuses would do. They only have their underwear on, and if it’s up to her, not for long. The touch of their skin is heavenly and warm. Cyndia still plays with her, she’s still making her beg and she’s not really the begging type.

“That’s an interesting way to use it, almost contrary to the original idea…” The older banshee grins from under her.

“You terrible, terrible tease.”

She could have masturbated but she was so eager to save it all for their meeting. And she wants more, _now._ She bites Cyndia’s lower lip with a taunt, almost drawing blood. At the same time her hands sneak on the clasps of her own bra, removing and tossing it somewhere. She moves so she’s straddling the older one who now watches her intensely. Del pushes her hips down making them grind against each other through their panties with a perfect aim and lets out a moan.

Cyndia is on her like a predator. She rises and pulls her into a kiss while laying her on the mattress with a grip that shows who’s the boss but is also fueled with immense joy of having someone so _right_ there with her.

“Please don’t stop this time, Cyn, _please.”_ Her voice is almost a whine, the older one pushing her thigh between hers but then retreating. “I’ll do anything, just... don’t--”

“I won’t, luv”, she purrs and crawls backwards nudging her nose on the younger one’s belly. “We’re not even playing yet and you give such promises. I like that.”

Her hands caress their way down her sides drawing goosebumps with their feather-light touch and stopping at the edge of the underwear. Without a prompt Delaryn raises her bum and Cyn chuckles. Her hands slip under the other’s waist and slowly pull the cloth down her buttocks. Her fingers slide with a frustrating slowness on the front revealing the trimmed curls from under the garment but leaving it there to lock her thighs together.

“What, no blue here? I’m shocked, I thought you were a natural.” The other giggles and tries to reach for a slap but fails as Cyn dodges and then dives down. Her thumb brushes her open and her flat, strong tongue licks over the little hidden treasure with meaning and aim. Delaryn moans, finally getting the touch she has needed for so long. Her thighs pressed together somehow heighten the feel of everything in the world right now being concentrated on that small, sensitive bud. _Oh lord that’s good._ The licks are gentle but firm, slow and accompanied by the lips around the pulsating centre of it all. Del grips the sheets whining in rhythm and rises, rises - and then it stops. _Not this again!_

“God, you are delicious, girl”, Cyn breathes as she quits the tasting right when she feels the other starting to throb in a telltale frequency. Delaryn groans and is ready to launch an objection when her panties are pulled down her thighs and long, slender legs that are then spread open by her lover crawling between them.

“Don’t worry, darling. I always keep my word.”

The redhead smiles like a loving tyrant and slowly eases her fingers between the girl’s swollen nether lips, plunging them in the slick warmth. Oh, how she loves to see that beautiful face react when she finds the best angle and _nudges._ Delaryn wails between her panting and Cyn descends back to the awaiting clit. She devours her sub(ordinate?) until she crashes head on with the climax that’s been building for a day or more. Cyndia sighs deeply, feeling herself throb answers to the ones against her fingers.

_Yeah, the rookie is ready for more._

 

*****

 

On her way to breakfast fifteen minutes before the restaurant closes Maiev glances towards the beach. _What in the seven hells now? Is this trip some kind of real life Valentine’s movie?_

Not that she minds, really. They have a gig soon, the sun’s shining and she just might be brave enough to get laid tonight.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel there isn’t much happening in this morning chapter but wanted to put this out there so I won’t fall off completely from this AU  
> EDIT: I'm working on this and not forgotten! Just been busy.


	14. At the End of the Great White Pier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's for _Jojo1112_ ;)

Several jokes around the word _buns_ flash through Kalira’s mind but she doesn’t verbalize any of them. Instead she stares mesmerized at the glorious bits of tight muscle on the pier as Nathanos tosses his underwear down and stretches like he knew she was watching behind him. Or like he were alone and no-one was watching. He throws her a challenging glance over his shoulder, takes the few steps to the edge of the wooden structure and dives into the lake like an Olympic swimmer.

 _What the heck?_ For a man in his forties with a musician background he’s in top shape. He has big bones and has never been the skinny type like some boys, not even in his twenties, but he’s muscular in a sort of natural hunter-gatherer way. He did mention going to the woods with the dog. It seems some don’t fall to bad habits even when surrounded by a lot of them in their daily life. She ties her long blonde hair on a top bun and accepts the dare _,_ undressing completely and jumping after him feet first. _Here’s hoping people are still asleep. Especially the hotel staff. But this is so worth any penalty fare._

With long strides Nathan swims further towards the middle of the lake and she follows grinning at the idea of him having to save her if they swim too far and her muscles give in. She doesn’t even remember the last time she swam, must have been in her teens. Drunken dives into city fountains don’t count. The cool water and the light strain on her muscles feel wonderful, enhanced by the magical moment and the knowledge of what’s soon to happen. The sun is still on the rise, the trees cover most of the beach looking from the yard. The dark man stops and turns around, smiling widely. His eyes flip quickly down and back to her face again, registering her lack of clothes through the clear water. 

”Great, isn’t it? I love mornings.”

”You must have suffered with your choice of occupation.”

”Sometimes I stay up until sunrise to see it.” He makes a mental note to invite her to his house to see the nearby forest in the morning sun.

Kalira floats a bit closer watching the bearded face that’s usually so stoic and dour now all open and expressive for her. There it is, warmth and desire matching hers. Oh, how her younger self would have loved this moment. But she _is_ the same as she was back then, transferred through two decades that are _nothing_ when in the realm of emotions or touched by a rare connection like this. Nathan’s brown eyes look back at her unwavering and she knows, _feels_ he is in the same wavelength and timeless bubble with her. 

Her treading feet brush his in passing. She ponders whether to prolong the sweet prowling phase before the likewise but differently sweet first touch or not. There’s the threshold right in front of her and she knows from experience it’s very likely that after a romp or two the feeling disappears. But she also has hope and a sort of certainty about this case being dissimilar to those short affairs in her past.

”Race you back.” She has an unfair head start but it doesn’t matter, the man catches her soon. He keeps close to her and they swim side by side towards the shore - staying deep enough for the water to cover their naked bodies. For there’s someone looking at the beach from afar.

”Uh-oh.” 

Fortunately for them it’s Maiev. She gives them a thumbs-up and heads to the breakfast hall. They glance at each other and burst into laughter like kids.

”Is this the part of the comedy where we say ’it’s not what it looks like’?” Nathan grins.

”No. Because it is.”

The tension winds tighter ever so gently.

”We still have hours.” His deep voice is quiet and just a bit hoarse. The intimacy of it mixed with the longing is an irresistible cocktail.

”I know. I’m ...thinking.”

”Alright.”

That was the right answer.

”Ok, done.” Kalira walks to the shore rising from the waters like a naga sorceress letting him have his turn at an eyeful of buttocks. Nathanos appreciates it with an increased blood flow that’s quenched only by the chill of the water around his balls.

 

****

 

Maiev carries her haphazardly gathered tray of food into the hall and finds Sylvanas with the loverboy there finishing their breakfast. They look so cute together, the singer having lost at least ten years off her with that _treatment._ She hears them talk in a sort of humorous mock argument.

“But I’m _old,_ whatever I eat will stick. On my bum. I won’t start any disorders anymore, I promise. I’m just trying to be healthy.”

“Your _bum_ is gorgeous and you know it. It doesn’t matter if it grows a bit. I’m your personal coach now, remember? I say you can have that second croissant. They’re tiny. You’ll burn that away in fifteen minutes of --” He stops the sentence in a meaningful silence and smiles into his mug of green tea.

Maiev grins at them and they wave her to join their table.

“You probably talking about riding or wrestling or some such wholesome sports, am I right? 

“Indeed we were.”

“I don’t know what kind of reality show we are living in but _would binge.”_

“How so?”

“I just saw Nate and our lead guitarist swimming. _In the nude.”_

Sylvanas laughs. “Oh, that’s wonderful! They both deserve some fun.”

“I think I’ve noticed certain looks and signs throughout the week. Good times.” She munches on the toast ravenous and cheerful.

“I’m detecting some happy vibes from you too, dear. Still denying any and all existence of a fling? Did you have fun last night?”

Maiev smiles and considers. Nothing bad would happen if they knew, would it? But not yet, they haven’t really sealed any deals, she lies to herself and purrs inwardly. 

“I did. I’ll tell you when I know more, ok?”

“Ooooooo. Good, good.”

Maiev looks at Anduin. He doesn’t seem so shy anymore although he lets them talk without budging in. Then again a night of fierce banging with a woman like that would relax anyone.

”So, how’s your study practice going, personal trainer? Getting credits for these days, eh?”

”No, but it’s still good for my studies… too.” He blushes slightly. ”People think I’m on a school trip. Remind me to take photos at Stonehenge just me in them.”

”Ooh, so you aren’t the flawless little angel you look like. Why’d you have to lie?”

”Um, my uncle Genn is a bit too protective of me. He’s my legal guardian until I’m 21. Or more precisely, that of my inheritance. My father’s will saw to that… it’s a bit of an unusual situation but I don’t mind really. Just have to bend the rules sometimes.”

”But he let you go to Kun-Lai.” Sylvanas picks the second croissant and nibbles it slowly.

”In his mind travelling far for ancient culture is somehow more decent than travelling near to see a notorious rock band with drug use history. Go figure.” The sly smile yanking his lip doesn’t go unnoticed.

”I get that but _what the fuck, Sylvie!_ You cradle-robbing monster!” She grins through her bread and jam.

”Hey! Do I look like I’m here against my will?” 

”Oh shush, where I come from 18 is enough and he’s past that. And _he_ approached me. What does that make him then, a _grave robber?_ I was almost reluctant. For a good ten minutes if I recall right and then his yellow shirt dazzled me. Now stop this line of conversation or I’ll grow my first grey hair.”

”And who would notice, you smouldering blonde? With that content look on your face I’d think the roots would grow pink from now on.”

”I wish. I’ve started to consider not bleaching them anymore. My personal trainer says it’s unhealthy.”

”And ruin our perfect row of three platinum ghouls on the stage? What’s your natural color?”

”I have an old pic I scanned somewhere, hang on.” She searches through her phone folders until she finds it. 

”Aww lookit the wee Sylvanas! Loving the bandana, Rambo. Damn you’re dark. That looks almost black.”

”Let me see. Oh indeed, a very dark lady. Wouldn’t that suit your forlorn genre better?”

”Everyone on the scene at that time dyed their hair black or multicolor. We tried to be different. We were _all_ platinum blondes back then, Maiev. Even Cyndia. A row of ghosts with tangled hair playing laments. That was so cool”, she grins.

“Do you have any videos from your old gigs? There were only a few very blurry short clips in YouTube.”

“Nat probably has some on film. There was this music video project we were working on but it was put to ice when the sponsors withdrew. And I have a collection of VHS tapes if we could find a functioning player.”

“Oh lord you’re old.”

“That’s what I‘ve been trying to tell him.” But she smiles like a girl in love.

“What’s a VHS?” Anduin asks bluntly. For a moment there he’s subjected to two harsh stares until his poker face fails and he grins.

“Damn, dude. You will need to massage her deep and hard to be forgiven that.”

“I'm counting on it.”

 

*****

 

They didn’t get caught starkers. After haphazardly putting the minimum of clothes on them Kalira leads Nathanos through the more or less uncrowded hotel yard to her cabin. Once the door is closed she faces him.

“I know this is unnecessary but I feel I still need to ask it.”

“Anything.”

“You aren’t pining after Sylvanas anymore?” The dark-haired manager huffs with a chuckle at that. He’s so happy it will be addressed and that he didn’t have to try and start the awkward topic himself. When he speaks a sort of tranquil relief sets upon him, like saying it out loud finally seals it. 

“No. I’m very glad she’s clean now, and seems happy with that kid. It was a long time ago and somewhere between her third and fifth near overdose I turned from a wannabe boyfriend into a concerned brother.” The bitterness he had felt for years doesn’t need to be mentioned when he feels not a trace of it in this moment.

“Yeah. I was always amazed how you handled it, dragging her out from some unspeakable places and in a state nearing death. She’s lucky she had us, I’m not going to be humble about that.”

“You were phenomenal, scolding her like you did ceaselessly. I never knew whether to laugh or to be scared of you.” The man grins, the nostalgia between them making him look younger. “And I do remember some…” He doesn’t know how to continue, the words just escaped him without thinking.

“What?”

“Uh, nothing.” He is not sure about it now. But Kalira sees it and guesses right.

 _“Yes._ I fancied you back then too. But you were all blind to any of my shy attempts at flirting.”

“Oh, _damn.”_ He reaches his hand towards her and the tension rises, their skin tingling like low electricity running inside every cell. She closes the distance, placing her palms on his broad chest that’s now covered with a partially wet t-shirt. He’s still cold to the touch from the water. The guitarist tilts her head towards Nathan’s handsome face.

“I’ve thought about it. It probably would have crashed and burned in that lifestyle anyway, even when neither of us went all the way to the bottom like Arthas and Sylvie. That’s what happened to most couples I knew, anyway.”

“It might n---”

 _“Sshh”,_ she stops his line of thought and kisses him on the lips. She has to stand on tiptoes to manage that, he’s so tall. The moustaches tickle like she thought they would but that’s drowned in the emotion that surges in both of them with the contact. Nathanos takes her small frame in his embrace and kisses back open-mouthed. No-one could go and blame either of them for being naive or even romantic but at that moment they both feel they’ve found something so rare it happens only once in a lifetime. It’s not a bad thing to occur at this age when they know who they are and what they want. It might even turn out to be a real blessing.

The mere closeness of another human being is bliss; a human that’s not just somebody from the bar, inebriated enough not to care. They kiss endlessly, tasting and getting to know the other in temperament. He puts his palm on the nape of her neck knowing his height in this situation is too much for most women; Kalira leans on it, relieved and glad of him being so attentive, and kisses him all the more eagerly. She feels his _eagerness_ through the clothes and decides, with the prompt from her own core, that it’s time to get rid of the garments. Again.

She pulls his t-shirt over his head and smiles as his wet hair gets even shaggier. Nathan is dark and hairy, his chest like a fur. She saves the bear jokes for later, combing through the rough curls, rubbing over his nipples. For a big manly man like he is it’s a delightful surprise to see him flinch at the touch. She grins and dives in, licking over the pink bud. 

 _”Fuck”,_ he curses under his breath.

”Really? Oh, this will be good.”

”No-one’s ever-”

”They’ve been stupid, missing out on seeing you squirm, _hunter.”_ She continues teasing him with her tongue, pressing her body against his. Her hips press on the hard bulge in his pants and she sighs deep. Oh, she’s the one who’s been missing out on all this - and now everything is here within her grasp, soon very literally.

His big hands roam her back, sneak under the shirt and snap open her bra. Kalira laughs breathily - _a man with skilled fingers._ Nathanos smiles back at her and pulls off her top, the bra coming along with it. 

At the lake he was trying not to stare at her too much but now he’s allowed and he surely does. For such a lithe woman her breasts are generous and heavy, and fit in his big hands snugly. Kalira leans in and moans. Her nipples aren’t sensitive but otherwise the whole area around them is. He feels them in his palms suppressing a groan but not the throb of his cock. By her encouragement he tightens his hold, squeezes, kneads them gently. She closes her eyes.

He kisses her neck under the ear, facial hair tickling and brushing in a delicious way. Kalira giggles when he reaches the earlobe and with an insight only nibbles it keeping his tongue out of the deal. The small touch of the lips feeds her flames. _Perfect, like I thought._ He’s trying to be slow, to keep his hunger in check. It’s been a long time since he had anyone and certainly even longer that he was sober while doing it. That must have been with his ex, years ago. No memory of it breaks through this moment, every touch with this woman feels like finding something forgotten and precious but still delightfully new.

Kalira’s fingers opening his pants make him realize something he had neglected, not being as hopeful or as calculating as he should have. An almost desperate look ghosts over his face.

”Damn. I don’t have any condoms on me.”

”Soon you will. I bought some while you weren’t looking on the shopping trip.” She pushes the jeans down his ass and doesn’t hesitate to slide her hands over _the_ _buns_ while she leans against his chest, skin on skin.

”Oh, you scheming fox. Glad someone has things under control.”

”Do I now? We’ll see.” His pants fall down to his ankles and he steps out of them, gently caressing down her waist and likewise undressing her casual sweatpants. Kneeling in front of her he helps them off and stays there, level with her trimmed dark bush because that’s where he’s headed - pun intended - if he’s allowed. Nathanos smiles, eyes dark and one eyebrow arching a question. He strokes up her calves like in wonder, reaching behind her thighs, pulling her closer. Kalira takes a wider stance and leans on the desk. 

”Be my guest.” She tries to play cool and humorous but her voice trembles in nervous arousal. 

When his assertive tongue finds her sensitive button and his soft beard brushes it slightly she lights up like a torch. 

”Oh god _yes -”_

And he’s good, oh so thorough and hungry like he just found his favourite flavor. _Not married but certainly been in a long relationship,_ she smiles to herself, shuddering in bliss.

 

*****

 

Walking through the Retreat yard Sylvanas looks at her mobile and frowns. There are several messages, very baffling and mildly aggressive, from an unknown number. The sender obviously knows her for having her secret phone number but she doesn’t yet understand who it could be. 

_“you famous again now huh i think i deserve a cut you didnt even ask”_

_“is nat with you too? who are the new bitches”_

_“i thought you died never got any calls after the throne”_

“What is it?” Anduin notices her mood change.

“Not sure.” The tone in the messages drags her heart and mind back into the chaotic years that she’s left behind - trying to leave behind every moment - and especially what happened in that nightclub. Suddenly she feels dizzy, like forced into a time machine without preparation for the whole wormhole business. 

“I think I need to go lie down for a bit.”

“I’ll come with you. Or do you… want to be alone?”

She forces a smile, the lovely boyfriend deserves it. “No. Come with, little lion. But I won’t be any good company.”

“Nonsense. You always are.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the hiatus and the little drama in the end here messing with our dose of romance and smut ;) The other pairs feature more in the next chapter.


	15. And the Rainbow Rises Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Favourite side dish taking over again, but the others have some roles at least ;)

 

“So... when you say you go hunting, do you mean you raid beehives or what?”

Kalira trails her fingertips through Nathanos’ chest hair and tries not to giggle. She’s using his tummy as a pillow and considers a second round after this pleasurable interval. The man under her snorts and if she could see more of his face than just the bearded chin she’d know there was eye-rolling going on as well. 

There’s no rush to go anywhere at all. Ever. She continues, relaxed, satisfied and full of joy.

“That’s basically countryside where you live.”

“Yeah, whenever I’m not forced to rent a room in some noisy city for the work. It’s easier to breathe there, somehow. Like my brain works better and I’m not as cranky as I am here. I guess I’m still a country boy at heart.” His hand caresses her hair leisurely.

“Aww you bumpkin. I don’t mind your grouchiness, I think it’s kinda hot.”

“Well, I guess I should cancel your invitation then.”

Trying to collect her messy blonde hair into a semblance of a bun she flumps on the pillows beside her lover and grins. 

“No way. I’m going to meet this mystery person and decide for myself if I like him too. I mean -” and she kisses him right on the lips still fascinated by the wonderful fact that she now has someone to kiss, “I liked him just now, a lot.”

 _“That_ guy doesn’t count, you drained all my brain power and made me your mindless slave.”

“Pfffft don’t underestimate yourself, Smokey. Your upper brain was left intact - if a bit idle.”

She’s so cheerful and giddy Nathanos deems her ready.

“Bloodwing. My dog’s registered name is Bloodwing. Can you explain that to me?”

“Oh.” Silence. “No, I bloody well can’t. Poor animal.”

“Yeah. I have no clue either. They probably ran out of cute puppy names and started using the stock for horror movie sidekicks.”

“Betty doesn’t have to know.” She hands him her phone and turns on a Bluetooth speaker on the bedside table. “Pick something.”

“Alright.” He shuffles through her music collection and the smile on his face just widens. “Ohh you got some treasures here, girl.”

“Of course.”

“Does it have to be romantic? You know… for the occasion and all?” His false innocence meets a flying pillow. 

“You can play the most romantic _Paradise Lost_ album you find there. Let’s see if our tastes agree on this.”

“You’re on.” 

_“Stand fast, faithful one, see the moon and not the sun but I - all I need is a simple reminder…”_

“Yesss. I knew it. Good man.”

“I passed a test?” The sarcastic raised eyebrow amuses Kalira to no end.

“Oh, you’ve passed a bunch of preliminaries and you didn't even flinch. Much.” She reaches blindly beside her trying to locate his weak spot among the fur. Nathanos grabs her wrist. 

“Have you no compassion for the poor endangered species?”

“They might be more enduring than you give them credit for. How about the finals, then?” The guitarist gets up to crawl between the man’s thighs. “We still have an hour.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Listening to instructions has never been a problem for Delaryn the master archer, but licking a girl’s privates is a first time for her.

“Yeah, like that but harder. Press more with - _ohh yeah_ that’s it, _God yes,_ keep that up...“

“Oh, I will… _mistress.”_

That makes Cyndia moan in her throat like a big cat and Del stores the information into her memo of _How to Manage Your Bossy Lover._ Getting to know the other’s nether regions feels peculiar, a bit embarrassing too, but she remembers everything being like that with Ferryn for the first times as well. Penises are goddamn weird alien things when encountered for the first time. But she got used to it and soon loved it, so she expects this case to be similar in that aspect at least. After being so magnificently handled by Cyndia she wants to learn how to make her feel as good as she made her, but she feels a total noob and needs to be patient. The keyboardist under her does sound like she’s doing something right and she loves hearing it, chases after that moan by repeating her licks and pressing on. 

Soon Cyndia is babbling incoherently and bucking her hips softly against Del’s mouth, thighs around her ears twitching. She feels a hand on top of her messy blue head, the fingers snaking into her hair and taking a grip. Not pulling nor forcing but telling that it’s there, hinting. She grins and continues sucking the older Banshee’s clit softly in the rhythm she’s found to be pleasing to the other, her fingers pushing inside, bending up lightly.

She quite likes it when Cyndia exhales and the tension in her body drops to a zero boneless jelly.

 _“Girl._ I’m keeping you.”

“Good. Wasn’t going anywhere.” She sits up on her haunches and wipes her face with a pleased grin. Only now she registers the music that’s been playing on the background.

 

_“I'm so tired of playing, playing with this bow and arrow_

_Gonna give my heart away, leave it to the other girls to play_

_For I've been a temptress too long...”_

 

”What’s this band? I like it. Her voice is so wonderfully lamenting, a bit like Sylvie sometimes.”

”Portishead. From the mid-nineties. Bristol.”

”I’ve heard you mention them. No wonder. They’re really cool.”

”They still tour, too.”

”Speaking of which. We should start getting ready.”

“I see you’re the one with the whip in this relationship. Come here for a sec, Blue.”

They nearly miss the car ride to the gig site for forgetting to stop kissing in time.

 

 

*****

 

 

”We nailed it! We fucking nailed it! The live streaming got me all nervous but we were perfect! Syl, you were phenomenal. So _dark._ I was impressed.” Maiev is almost jumping up and down for being so stoked. There are no showers in this makeshift backstage so she’s wiping herself as well as possible the grandma way, with a towel and a bowl of water, and changes all her clothes to fresh ones. It’s the countryside, after all. The others are getting a ride back to their lodgings but she has different plans.

“Yeah. I guess I got inspired.” Sylvanas’ smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but that goes unnoticed with the messy makeup she’s sporting again.

”Was that your nerves that made you play a sequence of _someone else’s song_ in your solo?” Cyndia teases. Maiev pretends innocence very badly. Good mood doesn’t bode well for her poker face. Illidan had been in the audience, on her side of the stage, and he’d immediately recognized the joke. She earned a wide smile and a golf clap for it.

”I was just goofing around. Was it a rip-off? Musta been subconscious.”

”Oh, totally. I’d go as far as to call it _Freudian”,_ Del joins in with an impish look on her.

”Ugh, you two. Go scissor or something.” But she grins and declines the offered sparkling wine with a light shrug, combing her ridiculously long blonde hair up on a ponytail. The Red and Blue holding hands glance at each other and then stare back at her.

”Well this is curious. You’re not as fun to tease anymore. I saw your Illidan in the crowd again. Did you already play _hide the eggplant_ with the hunk? I mean you all know by now that _me and Cyn_ ba-”

Cyndia shuts Delaryn’s mouth with her fast grip like has become the custom when the girl gets too excited and talks whatever she happens to think. Or doesn’t think, at all.

“Darling, they don’t need specifics.”

“Oh, but we do, mermaids”, Kalira yells from a couch in the back. “All the details!”

“What you on about? He’s not _my Illidan.”_ Soon the rising blush will be difficult to hide. Maiev gets up to leave.

“Really? Tsk, still in denial. Oh well, you’ve been in a good mood and that’s cool, so I’ll let that slide… until it slides home. And by _it_ I mean --”

”I’m in a good mood because I made up with an old friend that I had fallen out with, thank you for asking. Now I’m going out, so - bye.” She dashes out the backstage that’s actually a big festival tent because of the heritage site and nature reserve they were playing at, bumping straight into their manager who has Anduin in tow. _I have to stop doing this._ Nathanos stills her by grabbing her casually by the arms and flashes a conspiratorial, almost a shy smile to this person who he thinks is the only one that knows about Kali and him. Delaryn spots it for it is a rare sight indeed and raises a knowing eyebrow to her lover. _Could it be? Not Illidan then, eh?_

”Banshees, you blew their minds off and then some. There’s a horde of fans outside waiting to get autographs or selfies or whatever it is they want these days, will you pop out for a spell? Also I got a couple of new gig offers for us in the mainland, but we should talk about that at length later this week. Let’s have a serious meeting around Wednesday, OK?” He lets Maiev go once she’s nodded in acknowledgement and takes her usual leave of the promotional stuff. 

“Sure thing, Nathan. Thank you. Come in, both of you.” Anduin beams love like a son of a solar deity. He sits on a bench beside Sylvanas and touches her arm briefly. All the rest of the band members go “aawwww” synchronously.

“Oh, cut it out already. I have it on a reliable source there are many more new couples around here so don’t exclusively tease us all the time.”

“But you’re just so cuuuute”, Del goes and makes silly cuddling gestures. In secret she and Cyndia glance at each other again. _Many couples, she says._

“That’s true, we are, aren’t we?” Syl grins and gives her young lover a peck on the cheek leaving a dark purple lipstick stain on it. 

“Aaaawwwww!”

“Did you see the camera crew around? I think they filmed the audience too.”

“What? Oh, you mean this is going to be aired later?” The young man sounds slightly nervous.

“No, it was direct live.”

“Ah.” And that’s his cue to check his phone and see uncle Baine has sent him a dozen of messages during the show. Anduin was in the front row. The coincidence is too perfect so he pockets the mobile without reading them. _Later._

“How’d you like Powerworgen then? I know the singer Ivar but they’re a bit too manly for my tastes.” 

“I have to agree. They looked and sounded like a biker gang. Motors running.”

“Ooh, the boy has spunk!”

“How’d _you_ know?”

“Where I come from that word doesn’t have the connotations you’re referring to, you dirty old hag. But if it did I think I could make an educated guess between _enough_ and _plenty.”_ In the middle of Kali and Syl bantering Anduin has gone all red again. He has friends from many places and is familiar with most naughty vocabulary though he himself saves using any in the privacy of Sylvanas’ cleavage.

“Oh, oh! I don’t know if you even want to know this but I heard the Death Knights might start touring again with two new people!” Del shuffles through the tweets to find the one. The joking changes to solemn looks that change to shrugs.

“The new singer will have a real burden on his shoulders, trying to fit in the shoes of that megalomaniac. If they keep the same band name they should aim to keep the same style as well. The old fans will be on them like zombies if he’s not strong and similar enough.” Sylvanas sounds more grim than she wanted to but the milk is spilt already so it doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that bothers her about the news is that hearing about it reminds of her past now that she’s finally trying to bury it and move on. She aims for a more joking tone.

“Kali, you remember Jaina from high school? Turns out I dated the same bad boy as Anduin’s _aunt.”_

Silence reigns for ten seconds.

“Ok, that proves it. You’re his mom. Admit it.”

“Hey!”

“I know, son. It’s a shock to us all.” Cyndia pats him on the shoulder while Delaryn laughs herself into a cramp. Behind her back Nathanos nods at Kalira meaningfully and then announces his exit to the rest of them with a traditional rough grunt in the lines of _“the car leaves in an hour.”_ Anduin goes with him through the back doorway to avoid being seen with the band members. He certainly doesn’t want any fame let alone scandals. Sylvanas straightens her posture and gets up.

“Let’s go greet the followers, gang.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Illidan’s long, dark hair flows freely in the breeze, the majestic bulk of Oshu’gun behind him. Maiev assumes he’s chosen the location and the direction he’s standing just to get that effect going. He does look as bangable as ever and she swallows a whimper seeing he’s wearing tight dark jeans this time. _So tight._ Knowing their mutual influence on each other that’s a bold choice but he’s a daredevil, that one. He grins lopsided when he spots her.

“Hey, you. Wanna go out on a date? I know this cute place...”

”God, you’re such an American Romance Comedy. I don’t do dates, I wouldn’t know where to put my hands in all that pretence and act.” Too late does she realize she just set herself up for the joke that follows. Illidan smiles innocently.

”I can advise you with that problem anytime.”

She blushes violently thinking about the possibilities. ”Ughh - yeah, I bet.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t do this normally either. But you needed time… well, we have to do _something.”_

“Doesn’t have to be some kind of ceremony. Let’s just go to town and walk around or whatever, OK?”

 _“You want more though.”_ The arrogant certainty in his whisper both arouses and infuriates her.

“Shut up. There’s a cab.” She marches towards the free awaiting car at the tourist meeting point. His low rumbling laughter follows her and tickles all her fancies. She needs to take a deep breath before ducking into the backseat beside him. Just like she assumed the tension rises to an almost choking heights while in such close proximity with the damned hunk. Illidan tells the driver a street address and Maiev leans back on the seat thinking of ways to distract herself from the unsettling feeling of wanting to devour him right there. _Not yet, damnit._ When he sits back slowly and turns his face towards her she doesn’t know how to react except in her usual defensive manner.

“What?”

“I’m still taking you to that place. It’s a sightseeing thing, no need to sit down and stare at the menu.”

“Alright, fine.”

“So, did you choose to play that specific bit because of the lyrics that proclaim how much I like the taste of -” Her hand is faster than the civilized part of her brain. It’s like she wakes up from a dream there and finds her palm has slammed itself over his grinning mouth. She feels his hot breath on her fingers and it makes her recall several fantasies she’s had of his mouth. He has a grip around her thin wrist but he doesn’t drag it off his face, instead he caresses the underside slyly with his thumb making Maiev shiver involuntarily. The knot in her stomach winds tighter. She glances towards the front seat and sees the protective glass between them is thick and the driver doesn’t seem interested in what the clients in the back do. There’s probably a camera somewhere but whatever. She breathes in and focuses. _Behave. Don’t lash out. He’s not a complete prick._

“I don’t recall any song of yours not being about something lewd. I picked one with a cool riff that was easy to hide in the solo.” She tries to pull her hand back and he releases it after a tug or two. _Fuck, he’s strong._

“Fair enough.” He grins and settles his gaze towards the road so as not to ruffle her more. He had promised himself and to her to be patient and that just might include not being an aggressive flirt. Much. It’s hard not to look at her, she’s been brave and is dressed in an ensemble similar to her stage outfits: tight jeans that fit her so snugly _he_ has trouble breathing and a more loose-fitting top but with a generous neckline. He already knows the color of her bra.

After the quarter of an hour’s drive through the countryside they step out into a busy city street. Illidan insists on paying and she indulges him with a grunt. Lots of people are about outside the clubs and bars, the summer night warm and dark like a loving embrace of a demonic entity.

“This way.”

A few blocks of walking in tense yet comfortable silence - if the contradiction is allowed - and they emerge to a plaza overlooking an old church. It’s beautiful, a bit gothic if Maiev’s any judge, with leaded glass windows mostly of shades of green. In the info plaque for tourists it says _Cathedral of Our Lady of the Eternal Night._

“Isn’t it _fine?_ I always come here when I’m visiting.”

“Oh. Why yes, it is.” She is baffled and sounds like it too. She’s not going to ask about things of faith. That always ends up in a quarrel.

“This used to be an important place to my mother. It’s a sort of pilgrimage I do from time to time, not for the church but to her memory. I’m not really one for any parish communities as you might guess from my lyrics and stage props”, he grins seeing her all puzzled.

“I started coming here after I got clean, after her death. I want to be fully open with you so I’m telling this if you didn’t already know. I used to do cocaine. It made me feel invincible, like a hero, you know that ridiculous world-saving winged and caped sort. I was a very stupid, pompous dick back then.”

“So now you’re left with pompous and dick. Good thing you didn’t lose all your super powers.”

“You don’t seem too shocked.”

“I mingle with all sorts. If you say you’re clean...”

“I am, in both ways. All tests negative after quitting. My addictions are pumping iron and making music, cross my heart.” _And this one cranky girl here._

“And making fans squeal in the audience. I know a teensy bit of what that feels like and that’s a real drug if you’re the face of the band.”

“I admit it is… invigorating.”

“Pffft. You’re there molesting the mic stand with your bloated wang - I’d choose a more colorful word for it than that.” They’re both pretending to look at the cathedral, both grinning widely and trying to conceal it if they feel the other is watching. Illidan bursts into laughter. He’s about to retort how the latest stage boner was solely for her but then he seems to freeze in place. Maiev follows his gaze and sees a yellow-haired pretty girl watching them intently.

“We’re leaving. Stay close.”

“What is it?”

“That’s one nutty fan. She’s been stalking me in the social media and at our gigs. And now she’s found this place. Damnit!”

“Hey, I remember seeing her in your concert! I thought she sounded like one of those spiritual fanatics.”

Illidan marches onwards into a busy street and Maiev follows him. She hears the girl holler after them.

_“You are a child of Light! I know you can mend your ways if you just listen! You cannot avoid your true destiny!”_

“Ughh. I can go smack her around the face a few times for you. I hate people who force their religion at others.” She can hardly keep up, the tall man’s strides are twice the length of her step. After some turns and a long while on the main street he stops and looks behind them, angry. They aren’t followed. 

“I apologize. If I had known -”

“Whatever. If you hadn’t dashed off I would have gone and told her to stuff it. That sort of behaviour is unacceptable.”

“I’m glad you’re my defender”, he grins, calming a bit. “Wanna come up?”

It’s so sudden and he sounds so very casual she has to think several times and still the only thing that comes from her mouth is: “What?”

“This is my hotel. Just kind of happened to be heading this way.” So innocent. Such surprise. But she wants it so much her pants are about to undress themselves to flee the heat in her crotch.

“Yeah, ok.”

 

*****

 

After helping her thoroughly with her after-gig adrenaline Anduin continues taking care of Sylvanas in a bit less passionate way by massaging her back. She’s lying naked on the cabin sheets with her likewise nude physiotherapist and purring inwardly. 

“I know I should read them but he’s probably yelling at me for seeing me in the telly just now and I have no idea what to reply.”

“How ‘bout the truth, my lion? You said yourself Baine was the most understanding of your relatives.”

“He’s a lovely guy, but he’s also your most devoted fan.”

“Maybe we have to soften him together, then.” She grins over her shoulder and leans her cheek back into the pillows. “Would signed copies of our rare EPs do the trick?”

“They just might. You seem better now than before the show. Won’t you tell me what weighs your mind?”

“Uh. It’s just… my past sometimes hits me like a bad trip. You know, like I was again helpless and in the clutches of the addiction. I’ve told you... the darkness never really leaves. Just have to fight it all the time. Some days less than others.”

“It was that message you got?” His gentle hands palpate meticulously through all the vertebrae of her spine and find knots in the muscles he makes a note of handling better later.

“Several messages. They could be read as menacing. I’m not sure who it is but it’s probably either Lyana if she’s out of the institution again or someone who worked with us in the last projects that got cancelled. We owed many people money but I thought all that got handled eventually. Nate says we’re fine now.” 

“He seems capable of defending you if need be.”

“He’s done that alright. But even he can’t save me from myself or my nightmares. Debts can be handled, even drug dealers take partial payments, those things don’t frighten me. But the depression...” She hesitates and decides it’s still too early, too grim to tell her sunshine of a partner the whole truth. But he’s insightful as a keen lover can be.

“You’ve... hurt yourself in the past? I mean… more than taking drugs.”

She sighs deep and gives in. “Yes. Soon after Arthas died. I felt… that there was nothing to live for anymore. The messages kinda hinted at that instance too.”

“I wish there was something I could do”, he exhales. Sylvanas turns to her side and smiles at him.

“But there _is._ It’s what you do all the time. I’ve never been as… happy as I am now, with you.” 

His smile returns. “I could say the exact same thing. How did you survive after that?”

“My sisters and friends banded together and forced me to see my condition. They and Valkyrie saved me, basically.”

“Valkyrie, what a wonderful name. Who is she?”

“She’s the therapist I chose. Her mother’s Norwegian, I think. I still see her once a month.” Her thoughts drift off to the questions of their future, thinking about the appointment back home she has for the headshrinker after the tour is over. Somehow Anduin is on the same wavelength.

“I’ve been thinking… Since uncle Genn will give me a sermon about my future choices when I get home, and hearing about your sister and her husband and their organization… I could see a perfect compromise with everyone if I took up a medical career. I’m already one foot in healthcare as it is and I’d like nothing more than to help people in need.”

“That... would fit you perfectly. But studies like those are costly.”

“Um, yeah.” He sounds embarrassed and Sylvanas turns to look, curious.

“What is it?”

“Well. I told you about my situation with Genn being my guardian, in a way…”

“Yes, your father’s will and that.” He fiddles with a lock of her hair that’s escaped the hairdo.

“Oh. Are you saying that you’re actually bloody rich or something?”

“Well, in a word, yes. Or I will be once I turn 21. But I’ve already made a list of NGOs I aim to support. I don’t want to be a leech nor hoard more possessions. My father was a very successful businessman in his last years but I’m not his image and I never will be.”

“Look at that. My beautiful prince is actually a king. _A lion king._ How fitting for this fairy tale of ours.” Her voice is warm and teasing. He blushes.

“I really need to come up with an equally embarrassing nickname for you, my dark lady.”

 

*****

 

The hotel room is modest but comfortable. There’s a big bed in the middle and a small balcony overlooking a pedestrian street. Maiev pretends to be watching the scenery, hiding the shaking of her hands by pushing them into the inadequately small jeans pockets, a lump caught in her throat. Illidan seems to be familiar with the signs and lets her get her bearings, rummaging in the small kitchenette. 

“Drink?”

“No.”

His eyes follow her profile, her nervous set jaw, her luscious figure. The pants he’d chosen are feeling awfully tight and he needs to adjust his junk but he can’t, not while she might see. To solve these problems he turns away from her, facing the bed, quickly fixes the growing erection in a more comfortable position and sits on the mattress like it’s nothing. Maiev turns around and glares at him, a defensive yet hungry look on her. Illidan finds a green silken scarf from his bags beside the bed and ties one end around his wrist.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Lying on his back he reaches above his head, slipping the scarf behind some headboard bars. Maiev stares at his bulging tattooed biceps when he tries to tie the other end to his free wrist.

“Help me out here.”

Hypnotized by the peculiar proceedings she walks beside the bed and finishes his self-bondage carelessly, stepping back when it’s done. Illidan lies on the pillows and grins at her with a taunt.

”Unlike what I said in the song I can play tame if that helps. Until you untie me I’ll stay here.” He’s so infuriatingly blunt about their predicament she grimaces. But seeing him there on a plate makes her drool and her vagina lurch in a hungry way. For a while she just watches him, gets accustomed to the situation, thinks on the possibilities. After a moment she lets her gaze wander down his impressive frame and she lets out a little gasp seeing the trapped bulge in his jeans. It’s fully prepared and ready to sail. Her pulse quickens.

Illidan sees how fast her chest rises and falls. It’s not dissimilar to his state. He pictures his lust a demon he’s now keeping locked in a cage so she can safely explore her feelings and hopefully his body when she dares.

She looks back at his handsome face and steps closer. If she allows herself to comment the situation she’d only blurt something snide or angry, so she shuts herself up tightly so as not to break this delicious moment. Her core throbs every time the man smiles or looks straight into her eyes. That won’t do at all.

“Do you have another scarf?”

“Yes.” His voice is low and hoarse, so fucking sexy she’s about to yell. She finds the piece of cloth from his bag and quickly puts it over his eyes. 

“Oh. Kinky, are we?”

“Shut up.” Now she can relax, not needing to be aware of his gaze all the time.

“It’s all fine. I only want to please you, Maiev”, he rasps near her ear while she’s tying the ends behind his head. His words make her shiver. She takes her belongings from her back pockets, sets them on the bedside table and sits on the bed. With a trembling hand she reaches towards him and places it on his abs. She has a _thing_ for them. The muscles tighten and Illidan inhales sharply. Everything is so much more enhanced now that he can’t see, he has no idea where she will touch him and when. His reaction is contagious, she’s aching to get closer, to do… something. Something more. Right now.

Maiev climbs astride his hips and sits on his erection. He jerks and moans and his hands tug at the binds like they really were capable of keeping him tied. Tentatively she humps against him and _holy fuck_ it feels good. She does it again, then again. Soon they’re both panting and Illidan is so incredibly hot in her eyes, letting her play with him however she wants, pretending to be harmless. She loves it. Especially because she knows he is anything but.

She gets up quickly and undresses her pants. It’s so easy now that he’s blindfolded. Climbing back she can’t suppress her moan on the first contact of his yet clothed boner against her mound that’s only covered with thin, soaked underpants. Illidan twitches under her, breathing heavily. Maiev caresses up his tight abdominal muscles that spasm under her touch. Oh, the skin contact feels heavenly. She pushes his t-shirt up until the rest of his green tribal tattoos and the droolworthy nipple piercings are revealed. They are straight barbells, beads on either side of the nipple. She pokes the left one and judging by his small inhalation he seems to take pleasure in it. _Fuck._

“Don't’ tell me you have more of these… further down.”

“I _knew_ you were kinky, tsundere.” The smirk on his lips is deserving of a slap but she stays her hand.

“Should I tie your mouth as well?” She’s breathless and hot and seems to say whatever comes to mind. Attempting to silence him she nudges her hips forward again but that has a totally opposite outcome - neither one of them goes silent, though no words are used. She’s so close it feels daunting and so delicious she doesn’t know whether to prolong it or just take it now. Her blindfolded companion grins.

“I did… consider having an ampallang piercing on it at one point. But then I found out the healing takes _months._ In any case… I don’t think I need enlarging of any kind.” Illidan speaks matter-of-factly, almost sounding apologetic instead of conceited. Since they are on the _subject_ he bucks his hips up and Maiev is right there at the edge with the added mental imagery. She grinds herself fiercely against his movements and shatters into million little shiny pieces of ecstasy. Everything goes white and she moans, moans and curses deep until the climax calms into a purring bliss. 

“God, Maiev -” Illidan is panting but doesn’t make any attempts at freeing his hands. Maiev slides hers up his naked chest, relishing in the warm, magical feel of the skin. She watches those lips and the shame doesn’t come this time. Could she let him have her? Oh, but how she wants to. And then it hits her how _trusting_ the man under her actually is. They’ve barely met and he’s in a position where she could easily hurt him fatally if she were inclined that way.

_Oh._

And then she kisses the lips and he grunts in his throat, delighted, answering with ardor. Maiev pushes her tongue in first and loves it how he devours her, his cock twitching under her, trapped, eager, hard as steel.

 _She_ could take _him._

Her preferences aren’t exactly like that, but for this first time - so she could finally open the door that she’s been stalking with angered longing - it would be practical.

The ripples of the orgasm still singing in her cells she musters the courage to open the fly of his jeans. Silencing his urge to make some witty remark he raises his ass and she pulls them down, pulls the purple boxers down as well. His cock springs free and thumps on his stomach, heavy. She drags the garments off along with his socks. His thighs are massive, all tight muscle and no softness. Maiev touches them above his knees, slides her hands over the incredible chunks of trained flesh until she can’t avoid looking at the chunk of flesh between them. It’s intimidating and _dear lord_ so irresistible. Her core clenches in hunger anew when it twitches under her gaze like he knew she was watching.

“I wish I could see you”, he says with a voice just a bit raw, the smirk revealing what he guesses is going on. But he isn’t prepared for Maiev’s taunted bravery. _Oh, he thinks he’s so impressive? (Well, he truly is, but nevermind that now.)_ She bends her head down, inhales near the black curls around the root and her insides decide for her that she loves the scent. In one swift motion of her hand she smooths down the pubic hair off her way and licks up the thick shaft, all the way to the tip with the flat of her tongue. He jerks and his surprised deep moan impales her womb and inspires her ovaries into an improvised courtship dance.

_“Maiev!”_

“Mmm.” She’s never done this sober. Never really had time to taste and savour the reactions of her partner. They’ve all been some nobodies whose faces she can’t remember. This _somebody_ here is of a completely different calibre. She licks the veiny blade again marveling at the size, noting the faint scar of the circumcision, feeling how the member twitches repeatedly throughout the long lick. The head is swollen and almost purple, a drop of fluid glistening at the slit. Maiev grips the base and kisses the side of the crown with open, wet lips. Illidan groans in pleasure, in pent-up lust and frustration. 

“You don’t like the wait, eh?”

“Not usually, no... God, Maiev, you -” He’s breathing rapidly through his beautiful open mouth. _But he’s been waiting for me patiently._ She decides to trust him with her health, his dedication to her having been more than convincing. She encloses her lips around the glans and sucks lightly. She sees him grit his teeth and his fisted hands yank against the scarf. He’s holding the ends of the makeshift rope in his fists, otherwise the simple knots would have loosened by now.

_Oh._

Long blonde ponytail swooshing in the fast shift of position Maiev gets up, drops her underwear to the floor and rummages through his duffel bag. She finds a pack of condoms like she expected she would, fishes one out, opens the package clumsily and hops back on top of the awaiting tortured man. With her other hand she yanks the blindfold off his eyes. He blinks twice to return to the realm of light and gets his focus back in time to see the gorgeous woman roll a rubber over his cock a determined look on her face. She’s struggling with the tight fit of it but manages eventually. Before she’s overrun with useless second thoughts she raises herself and guides it in her, sitting slowly on the beast, her slippery and soft walls swallowing it eagerly. The stretch is phenomenal. Her eyes get hazy and then flutter closed while Illidan gapes at her with dilated pupils. She lets out a whine when she’s fully pierced. 

“Careful, love”, he rasps, knowing very well his size isn’t only a blessing. It needs to be taken in gradually and even then not entirely unless one wants severe cervix ache.

She lifts her hips and searches for the threshold where the pleasure turns to pain, her quim clenching with every movement. Mouth open she rides him slowly, carefully, not sitting down completely anymore, leaning her hands on his broad chest. Illidan groans at the tight hug of her flesh, at the beauty of her flushed look, the fact that she _dared._ She lifts her eyes meeting his and the sensations overwhelm her. She’s never looked anyone in the eyes while having sex and this one here is a special case on all levels. 

She leans forward and slaps his wrists lightly. “They’re open.” Her voice is broken and full of emotion. Illidan opens his fists and pulls his hands free from the virtual bonds. He takes off his annoyingly tight shirt and lands his palms on her thighs. 

“May I?” 

Maiev nods, unable to speak. But she does cry out when he flips her on her back without breaking their joining. She wraps her legs loosely around his waist like she has done so many times in her mind while pleasuring herself. Eyes half closed he leans on one muscular arm, looming above her, the silky strands of dark hair falling on her still loosely clothed breasts. Illidan presses his other hand gently on her abdomen and pushes in slowly until he feels her jerk in a painful way. 

“There?” She nods again, breathless. She’s completely at his mercy, his huge form and strong arms could overpower three people her size. Instead of frightening her this time the passing thought makes her purr in added arousal. A hunk like that being so tender and attentive is a fantastic supposed dichotomy - and the hottest thing ever to experience live. Caressing over her stomach with his free hand Illidan sets a languid pace thrusting in only till the mark they had set. After a moment her body forgets there ever was an uncomfortable pinch and gives in to the intense pleasure of the ride. Their panting is synchronised within a minute when they succumb to a trance-like level of existence, guided by the enrapturing motion of their flesh. Maiev’s hands search purchase on his shoulders and she tries to keep her eyes on his, ravenous for this new contact, but they close involuntarily all the time with the searing bliss of their union. 

 _“Maiev, Maiev”,_ he repeats in whisper and she loves it, loves the worship-like quality of her name on his lips. He speeds up and his large hand slides down over her mound, thumb searching through the wet upper folds and when he locates her clitoris she replies to the chant.

“Illidan!”

“God, _yes”,_ he hisses and strokes it in pace with his shallow thrusts, feeling her nearing another orgasm for she sheathes him so snugly it’s impossible not to. To her breathless astonishment he rocks her over the edge and she sinks her fingernails into his shoulders, wailing with no inhibitions, cursing like a sailor. Climaxing feels so much deeper, wider, so much _more_ when against a thick shaft. Her intense pulsating breaks his discipline and after a few erratic jabs he joins her elation, groaning low beside her ear like a demon unleashed, his cock pumping his seed ferociously. 

Maiev pushes her fingers through his hair and pulls him into a deep kiss. If he’s as passionate and hot-tempered as she is - and he seems to be - it must require enormous concentration not to plunge into her with all his might and length. She realizes this with admiration and an unnamed tender feeling that swells in her chest while she feels him starting to soften inside her. Illidan grabs her into an embrace and rolls on his side as he can’t really let himself fall on top of her smaller body. He makes sure the condom stays on until he eases himself out gently. 

 _”Jesus fucking Christ”,_ she declares.

”Indeed.”

They lie side by side for a moment, their breaths calming, sweaty thighs and arms touching and a strong magnetic pull keeping them close. The fingers of their adjacent hands entwine and she notes with a gleeful smile how this is the only situation she’d be caught holding hands with anyone.

The guys Maiev has been with never managed to get her off. Never. But they also never meant much to her nor had time to learn, since she ever saw them only once, except that one soon to be completely forgotten prick. And even when drunk she didn’t have the guts to try and please herself with them. 

“I guess we’re _introduced_ enough for me to get naked now”, she grins tossing her wrinkled top and dark blue bra on the floor somewhere.

“By all means”, Illidan murmurs, bedroom eyes glued to her curves.

Snuggling tightly against him and wrapping her leg around his midsection she sighs contentedly. His masculine scent makes her purr even in this satisfied state. She uses smelling him an excuse to hide her face into his armpit and it makes Illidan chuckle in a happy and surprised way. He wraps his strong arm around her lightly.

She’ll have to confess about that rumor eventually. What better timing than in this glorious afterglow, ruining the whole thing when it’s barely started?

  
Yeah, that’s so _her._

 

 


	16. Ashes and Ashes and Second Hand Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. It's mostly because there are so many couples now and I need to get into the right mood to channel them each with the way they deserve... or at least that's what I'm attempting. The Shadowmoon couple is still stealing the thunder but what can I do, I love them so.

 

 

“I’ve seen them leave almost the same time more than once.” 

Delaryn braids Cyndia’s red locks into a neat hairdo and then starts combing her own blue hair. The older Banshee nods.

“And he somehow lets her skip the PR stuff without even a fight.”

“But can you really imagine Maiev with him? Somehow… nope. I mean, she’s been drooling over that Illidan character so obviously that it’s -”

“Yeah but maybe he’s not available. And the way they looked at each other just now. I saw it. Nate seemed so _soft._ I mean come on, he usually doesn’t even smile!” 

“Sometimes he does, you haven’t known him for long. So, you wanna go spy on him or what? His cabin is the last one in the row.” Cyn says it with sarcasm but the girl jumps up and indeed looks like a wannabe Miss Fisher with a mystery to solve.

“So she left somewhere from Oshu’gun. Maybe he’s going to meet her there later? Let’s go quick, my romantic heart can take this uncertainty no longer!”

“You are a marvel, Blue. No, that’s not the right word is it? I meant daft.”

The civilized, grown up women sneak behind the holiday resort cabins giggling like two little girls playing at sleuths. They find the right house and realize the only open window is too high up. 

_“Piggyback”,_ Delaryn whispers, grinning.

_“Oh lord. Yeah, why not. I didn’t have a reputation anyway.”_

_“Uh, it’s not high enough. I need to sit on your shoulders.”_

Cyndia groans when her young lover climbs clumsily up her back like in a wrestling show. She needs to lean on the wall so they don’t topple over with a comical crash. The idea of getting caught by unknown people doing something this childish mortifies her even if she’s been on the rebellious side of the society all her life. 

_“Don’t sound like you don’t want your head between my firm thighs, old lady.”_

_“I’m so gonna whip you for this.”_

_“Promises, promises.”_

Del grips the windowsill and peeks inside. A small surprised whimper that she swallows intrigues the other to forget her useless need to appear the adult.

_”What is it? Is she there?”_

_”Sshh.”_ The girl stares silently and her thighs clench around the supporting member’s neck. Something interesting is definitely going on and Cyn wants to know what.

_”Come on, are you just ogling at Nate dancing naked or what?”_

A palm fumbles down on her face and finds her mouth to settle onto it like a gentle gag. 

_That’s my thing,_ Cyndia grins, planning a punishment session or two for later. 

 

*****

 

”Ohh that’s it, so good.” 

Kalira is lying on the sofa wearing only Nathanos’ ratty Black Sabbath t-shirt and her undies, her off-white hair on a hasty bun and her legs on his lap. 

”What _is it_ with women and foot massage? It’s like you wouldn’t even need sex if someone just rubbed your feet daily.”

”That sort of negative thinking must be the reason men never do this often enough. _Ahh yes_ that’s the spot!”

The dark bearded man laughs, happy and amused. His rough, strong thumbs turn the guitarist into a purring jelly for several minutes. 

”Come on, I’ll show you.” She reaches towards his feet and after a moment of raised eyebrows and other non-verbal battle tricks he gives in, sighing. Half of it is for show, really. He turns so they’re both lying and both have the other’s foot in their lap. Kalira starts massaging his sole with a comically determined look on her. He flinches.

”That tickles.”

”Hang on.” She takes a firmer grip and after a moment he relaxes, continuing with his own task. A pleased sort of sound comes from his throat.

”Yeah? Better than sixty-nine but I’ll have both, don’t you worry.”

”That worries me. Might need to give up my career as the manager.”

”What?” A real frown flashes on her face.

”You know, being all drained and dead after taking care of your—” He gets a deserved revenge tickle that makes him howl and pull his foot away in primitive panic. After a wrestle and a near collapsing off the couch he regains his voice.

”Seriously though, seeing Cyn with Del I thought it a terrible idea to date a bandmate but look at us now. And those two seem fine as well ...so far.”

Kalira’s warm smile threatens to reach her eyes in liquid form. He answers it knowing its meaning.

“I mean, I’m not calling this a one-time fling, are you?”

She needs to wipe her eyes before sacrificing the mutual massage position and crawling on top of him. She grabs him by the ears and smashes his lips with a deep kiss.

”No, I’m not.”

”You don’t think this will complicate the work?”

”Nah, we’re an old band, no-one cares if we break up again after this tour.” She kisses him some more and he kisses her back, slow and unhurried. The feel of the moustaches on her face has become the norm and the only way it could be.

“You do know you’ve been massively popular this whole tour? I’ve seen young people in the audience at every gig and the reviews praise you to the moon. I think we could go to the U.S. later this year and we should start thinking about a new al--”

He is smooched into silence.

“Luv. If you don’t shut up about work I’m going to have you again.”

“That’s... an extremely bad threat. You’re really not very good at this, are you?”

“It’s a win-win trap”, she grins and nibbles his neck. A movement in the periphery of her vision makes her glance at the small ventilation window. “Also, brace yourself for the screaming and confetti. We’ve been found out in the most ridiculous of ways.” She smiles and Delaryn’s head disappears from the window followed by a sound of a crash and some curses that make Kalira laugh out loud.

“What the hell?”

“The other new pair in the band. I assume.”

“OK. I’m going to make them suffer.” He tries to get up but his lady isn’t moving.

“Oh no you are not, that’s my job. Unless I get to watch.”

“Certainly.” They march side by side outside and find no-one. Kalira’s phone makes a rude noise. Nathanos raises an eyebrow.

“Your secret girl chat?”

“Yeah.” She checks it and breaks into a smile bordering on a chuckle.

Delaryn: _“OMG Nathan/Kali I SHIP IT SQUEEEEE”_

Sylvanas: _“I assume that’s something good”_

Delaryn: _“They so cute!11”_

Sylvanas: _“Oh that. Yes they really are.”_

Kalira: _“Nate is coming after you, clowns”_

Cyndia: _“I wish I could say I tried to stop her”_

Delaryn: _“So where’s Maiev then HMMMM??”_

 

****

 

The next morning Maiev wakes up with a start, sitting up and clutching the sheets in front of her. The unfamiliar hotel room makes her focus her sleepy eyes in seconds, checking the surroundings like she were in danger. _What place is this?_ She hears a shower running behind the bathroom door.

_Illidan._

Her cheeks flame up and the same warmth travels all the way down her body. _Oh, yes. That. Oh God, that was so good. What the hell?_ She grins so wide her dry lips crack. Falling asleep beside someone is also a small miracle, she’s usually so wary and fidgety and used to sleeping alone. Probably the strain of being so horny all this time made her just drop after their coupling. _Which was good. So fucking delicious. Could have some more of that actually._

She picks her phone from the bedside table and there’s like forty messages in the Banshees chat. Browsing through it her grin just widens. It starts with some revelative exclamations about their manager and the lead guitarist having been spotted snogging, then the mermaid couple goes into a fruit emoji battle.

_Delaryn: “She’s been out all night, must be a goooood [eggplant]”_

_Sylvanas: “Yes I believe she has gone off to get some… [cucumber]”_

_Kalira: “And not from Nathan I assure you. He says hi”_

_Cyndia: “If she doesn’t answer soon I’m gonna worry tho [banana]”_

_Delaryn: “@MAIEV ARE YOU BANGING THE DEMON LORD OR WHAT”_

She’s about to answer when the sound of running water stops and she tenses, still kind of nervous and not sure how to act around him. But he’s been so patient and accommodating it’ll probably be fine even if she’ll trample clumsily at the start. She sends a short one before putting the mobile away.

_“I’m alive shut up hens”_

When the tall buff man appears through the doorway covered only in a very small hotel towel that’s around his hips she forgets to be nervous and just stares hungrily for a moment. His long black hair is damp and combed neatly, falling on his broad shoulders. There are droplets of water here and there on his bulging, tattooed muscles and one falls over his pecs making her eyes follow it past the pierced nipples down to the edge of the towel. She realizes she’s breathing heavily. _Yeah. Could totally have some more of that._

“Good morning to you too”, he grins, pleased about her open admiration and that she hasn’t yet ran off like he was afraid she might do once she had time to think about all this. He hooks his thumbs under the towel like a cowboy with jeans and his fingers dance languidly on it, pointing at and framing the scantily hidden fruit.

“Hi.” Her voice is husky. The rising want makes her braver and she smiles back. Wrapping her nakedness in the sheet - sloppily enough so the upper part of her breasts shows just enough to be enticing - she rises from the bed like a goddess in an ancient Greek painting, or that’s how Illidan sees her, at least. She walks inelegantly to him the fabric clinging around her ankles and almost making her trip head first into his arms. _Oh no, I’ve done enough of that,_ she curses inwardly and keeps her balance. Once in front of him she bathes in his adoring gaze that has a hint of half-serious worry. He touches her lower lip with his thumb making her brain short-circuit.

”Did you bite yourself? I don’t remember biting you… yet.” His thumb swipes over the dry cut and they stare at each other, letting the wonderful tension coil ever tighter.

”No, I…” Maiev almost whines seeing him lick the blood off his finger, absentminded or very well feigning one. Mentioning dry lips would invite the obvious joke so she doesn’t. Her voice is a rough, hoarse bark.

“Move. I need the bathroom.”

“Of course.” Again the mock-innocent smile deserving of a slap or three. He steps sideways giving her space and their arms brush against each other when he walks past her towards the bed. Even a small touch like that makes them both shiver and the desire flame up. Stepping through the door Maiev glances back and sees him drop the towel. She cannot but ogle aggressively. _Dat fine ass._ She closes the door very slowly staring at the tight buns and nearly drooling. When he is about to turn around she shuts herself in. She doesn’t hear it but the hunk is chuckling to himself guessing very well what was going on.

After her toilet and shower and other more or less necessary stallings she watches herself in the mirror and likes what she sees. It’s like being in bloom or some such syrupy expression, she feels prettier than ever and somehow still cares about it only mildly - being with Illidan has pumped her full of confidence and energy. 

Another form of pumping is sure to only enhance her new look. Realizing she didn’t bring clothes with her in the bathroom she wraps herself again with the sheet and bravely enters the lair of the beast.

The beast, or the master of it as it were, has been brave as well. Illidan is lying on the bed with no covers on him, hands behind his head, showing off his full frontal glory. Maiev nearly whimpers as her vagina sends a strong S.O.S. signal of emergent need for a conference with _that thing._ It’s fully erect again, resting over his lower abdomen like a sunbathing monster slug.

Her metaphors are all over fauna and flora by now.

“You took the sheet”, he says in a way of explaining the exhibition. She drops the item in question to the floor without breaking their eye contact. 

“Here, have it.”

“The... wrapping wasn’t really what I was interested in.” His eyes are dark and scan her curves. ”My God, Maiev. You are gorgeous.”

She could say so many things about him, what she likes and thinks is wonderful, in his looks and his body and lately his behaviour, but it’s all so difficult to phrase. Like she would lose some kind of hold or her pride if she let herself go sappy like that. But this all passes very fast in her lust-filled mind and anyway it’s easier to show than tell.

He reads her hesitation differently. ”You can tie me if you like.”

”No.” She crawls on him and enjoys every move, knowing he’s watching her breasts as much as he dares to shift his eyes off her face. ”I’m sure you’ll behave.”

”Oh, I will.”

She’s on her back before she has time to yell three curses. Her instinctive fight mode flames up simultaneously with her desire and the latter is winning seeing him lower his head towards the junction of her thighs. 

“I want to feast upon your flesh.”

“For fuck’s sake, do _not_ use your corny lyrics as a - _aah!”_ Illidan’s lips reach her nether lips and his agile tongue reveals her hidden pearl without any sort of slow initiations. He chuckles against her skin, his misdirection having worked perfectly. He figured if Maiev is annoyed or angry she doesn’t have time to be self-conscious or guarded. Her scent and taste make him groan in heat but he still has some sass to give.

“I said I would behave but not _how.”_ Seeing she’s not denying him he grabs her thighs and dives in, eats her like in hunger, lips sliding wetly all over her, tongue lapping over the clit and sucking it between his lips, all the while humming low in his throat like a big cat.

“Oh God, oh fuck, _fuck yes -”_

“I need to discipline that filthy mouth of yours, woman”, he murmurs against her nub and continues ravaging her with his.

“Oh, shut up - _ohh -”_ It’s as much what his mouth does as his suggestion at further _punishing_ that make her soar ever higher in the Richter scale. Illidan eases two of the short-nailed fingers of his left hand into her so very slick warmth and nudges up tenderly, testing. 

The test is a huge success. Her curses are slowly becoming positive triggers for his boner. Maiev thrusts her hips against his hand and face urging him to pick up the pace and add more pressure and he does, gladly, and feeling her throb around his digits with a wail so profound Illidan moans himself as well. By God, this woman, she’s incredible. Fragile yet fierce, hard as diamond but yielding if handled with care.

A new song is starting to form in his mind.

Licking his fingers like a candy cane he sits up to his haunches and lets her get an eyeful of his lewd behaviour and the marvelous boner. Vaguely she wonders how he’s up and pumped again even though they just had sex last night. In her little experience guys need some recharging time and this hunk isn’t in his teens anymore. 

Cheeks wonderfully burning Maiev sits up and finds herself grabbing his cock like it were the default resting handle for idle hands about. It’s just so tempting, so wonderfully eager and hard and beautiful and… Illidan grins, happy. She’s not ashamed anymore, instead she’s curious and playful and seems to be up for more, though the gentleman is (almost) completely prepared to only serve this morning. He’s positively surprised as well of his virility but it’s more to do with his feelings for Maiev than any of his assumed abilities. Her fingers move slowly on the skin of his shaft, exploring. 

“It’s yours if you want it.” He remembers some little sign from before and adds, flashing a teasing grin: “Just ask nicely.”

“Begging isn’t really my style”, she declares with a husky voice. 

“Oh yeah?” He wrestles her on her back again locking her wrists above her head. She loved this the first time they met and even though it might be too soon for her insecurities Illidan risks it for it is something that really tickles all his fancies. She struggles and he kisses her gently on the lips the tenderness in stark contrast with his other actions. Keeping his body weight off her with his strong thighs and leaning on his elbows he presses his erection against her wet mound, pushing up. It slides over her clit easily and ignites her lingering purr of a climax anew. Playing her like a violin with a somewhat too thick of a bow he feels her relax the tugging of her wrists and instead succumb into the kiss. Moaning in her throat Maiev nips his lower lip between her teeth and her hips start to hump against him adjusting to his movements.

Illidan wants her so much it aches in most parts of his midsection. Though the intense position might be the reason for the abdominal muscle strain. He releases her wrists to be able to lean on his arms. 

”Just say the word”, he teases, still, with the last shreds of his self-control.

She grabs his shoulder and tilts her hips so that he all but slips in, her other hand snaking between their bodies to guide him, heated haste in her movements. Yeah, she isn’t begging. 

”Wait”, he remembers and reaches for his bag. Maiev groans.

”Oh, fuck. I hate condoms.”

”What, why?” Shouldn’t they annoy him more than her? Illidan sits on his haunches and rolls the tight-fitting, thin sheath over his sword under Maiev’s expectant, hungry gaze. Oh God, how he’d love to feel her on his skin without barriers. She doesn’t answer, face flushed and eyes on the shaft, a hand already reaching towards it. He’s so with her in the endeavour.

They both moan at their slow, deep joining.

 

*****

 

_”The goth queen Sylvanas is as gorgeous as ever, her voice the recognizable wail and velvety caress all the old Banshees fans know and love. She also seems to be in good shape, having survived the notorious addict years of the nineties. She seems happy and healthy, and that’s a rare thing to say in this genre.”_

Anduin smiles brightly, putting his phone down after reading the music magazine review of the tour to his loved one.

”They are being very nice, but you are stalling. Did you read your uncle’s messages?” Sitting on the bed Sylvanas tilts her head while pulling dark stockings on her lean legs theatrically raising them up and wiggling like a showgirl. 

”Uh, fine, I’ll check them now.” The young man reads for a while, brows in deep furrow. 

”Yes. He saw me as was expected and demands an explanation, mainly because we ’could have hung out’. I must have disappointed him. What if he feels I’m avoiding him…?"

”But you are, little lion.”

”But not because I hate his company, which he might be thinking! I can’t tell anything like this over texting.”

He types something for a few minutes, deleting and writing again with frustrated sighs. He doesn’t want to lose Baine’s friendship, ever. Eventually he settles for a message where he simply apologizes to his favourite uncle without explanations and asks to meet with him on Wednesday to talk.

Meanwhile Sylvanas reads about the new Death Knights. ”Bolvar Fordragon. Never heard”, she mutters. A text interrupts her and it reveals enough to deduce the identity of the mysterious person who’s been upsetting her. 

”It’s Lyana.”

”Hmm?”

She shows him the message.

_”I miss Dan. It wasnt my fault. His old man is avoiding me. Ill come meet you at shatt”_

”I need a bit more background info for that. Who is Dan?”

”Dranosh. An old DK member. He OD’d shortly after Arthas. Lyana and he were very tight. Ohhh _fuck,_ this is going to ruin the festival. I’ve tried not to be too friendly with anyone who is still using or in recovery, I know it’s selfish but they just drag me down, you know?”

”I understand perfectly. You need to take care of yourself first.”

”Oh you are such a treasure, have I told you that, Anduin? You never intrude or demand or force your opinions or anything. I can just _be_ with you. It’s so relaxing.” She’s still amazed how someone so young can be so mature and balanced, but that’s also the main reason their affair has continued for longer than that glorious first weekend.

“Are you sure the relaxing bit isn’t due to my awesome skills?” He grins showing his age just for a second.

“Oh, yes, that too. Now that you mention it -”

The stockings come off before they are even properly on, Anduin undressing them one at a time. He’s not the bashful youngster anymore, the look on his face is playful, confident and so damn hot Sylvanas giggles like a girl. 

“So, was it a foot massage you wanted, goth queen?” His agile hands rub the soles of her feet for a while but then they travel to her calves and she is forced to lie back on the bed as her personal trainer raises both her legs against his chest. He massages slowly and with a clear intention of it leading into something more intimate.

“For a start, maybe.” She grins, brimming with joy. She’s so glad he’s got an appetite to match hers, be it because of his age or for some other reason. She can already feel him harden against the back of her thigh. 

 

*****

 

”How come you have a hotel room? You don’t live that far.” Maiev is lying on her stomach, naked and sweaty and so relaxed her insecurities decided to go have a smoke. Illidan is beside her on his back and she’s slowly tracing his green tribal tattoos with her fingertips. 

“You’d know my street address, wouldn’t you, fangirl?”

“Hey! Everyone knows the infamous Shadowmoon weirdos. Don’t test my patience, Hulk.” She pinches his pierced nipple and he’s not sure whether he should actually continue poking at her or not. In the end truth seems the best policy, he muses, especially when half his brain also went for that post-coital cig and he wouldn’t be able to concoct anything very clever in any case. 

“Would you have come all the way to my house last night, then? On a bus? Or two hours in a taxi?”

“Oh.” Her hand stops, then continues lazily. “Probably not. You’ve planned everything perfectly, have you, Horn God?”

“Not really. I was counting on luck so much it’s ridiculous. Can you imagine what a wreck I’ve been, hoping to lure you closer?” The hunk grins and rolls on his side to look into her eyes better. His black hair flows down his shoulder and pecs like heavy silk.

“Pfff, you liked the hunt.”

“I did.” Illidan mimics her and trails his long fingernails slowly on the skin of her back, making her shiver and jolt. “And you like it when I… take control.”

“You dare order me around even once and I’ll force-feed you your horns.”

He leans closer, nips the back of her neck with just enough bite to make the guitarist shudder and whispers in her ear: “I might just have to risk that once in a while.” Maiev’s eyes close in the wonderful ever-flowing arousal even after they just had each other thoroughly. This guy seems to understand her predicament intuitively. She hates bossy men, hates anyone who thinks they have the natural position to dictate how things should go just by the existence of their external genitals. Illidan might have realized how she loves to be dominated but only, _only_ in bed. Or against the wall. Or on the floor. The _special_ circumstances.

“So what’s up with that real fangirl of yours?”

Illidan groans not in a pleased way at all, flumping back to the mattress. “How the hell did she find me here?”

“Well duh. Your Instagram post. If she’s as fanatic as she seemed she probably figured out to follow the Banshees too.”

“Yeah but the cathedral… I didn’t think she knew that about my mother.”

“Wait. You know her? Like _know-know_ her?”

The dark-haired man sighs deep, giving in. “Her name’s Xe’ra. We were next-door neighbors in Dolanaar. Her whole family were worshippers of the Light. She was just this little kid who seemed to like me and sent me these silly postcard messages and such. Me and mom moved here when I was 20 and I didn’t hear from her since. I didn’t realize she had this obsession as she was like, what, 10 years younger than me.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, the numbers mattered more back then.” 

“Oh dear, a childhood sweetheart. She looked way younger than me.”

“Don’t. It’s really starting to vex me.”

“Sorry. How long has she been after you?”

“She appeared to one of my early gigs some years ago, my first band -”

“Demon Hunters, yeah I know.”

“You sure you’re not a stalker?”

His mobile buzzes against the table interrupting Maiev’s attempt at a witty retort. She’s closer so she grabs it passing it on to her lover. She inadvertently checks the name on the screen like one does with their own phone and freezes like a bunny in headlights. Smiling, Illidan takes the cell and answers it, oblivious to her shock.

“Hey Kael. You got that gig sorted?”

Bewildered Maiev rises from the warm bed and walks to the bathroom like a zombie. The _Love Actually_ the whole band seems to have been living in is beginning to look more like _Fear Factor_ to her _._

 

 


	17. Black Planet Hanging over the Highway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a bit shorter than usual but there are some timing things that demand I post only this much now. Pain and suffering incoming! 

 

“Who was that?” Maiev tries to sound casual but she’s almost choking.

“Our manager. There was some mix-up with a gig after Sethekk but it seems to be OK now.”

Nothing is OK and never will be. She’s definitely not going to face _that asshole_ ever again.

“I need to go.”

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Maiev feels like a ton of some unseen dense material is being poured over her brain and soul. Thick, dark, sticky, making her clumsy and slow and stupid. She was supposed to tell Illidan about her misdeed and that would have been frightening enough, but now her whole life’s a horrible mess and she can’t think straight. _How can he be friendly with that guy?_ She puts her clothes on like an automaton, hardly seeing in front of her. He senses her stress but has no clue as to what has caused it. He gets up, pulls his boxers on and steps beside her.

“Maiev. Are you alright?” He touches her arm but she pushes it off.

“Yeah. I need to… do something. I had forgotten.”

“Hey. You are shaking. Did I do something?” He’s as baffled as can be, a minute ago she seemed happy and relaxed with him. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, stop asking!” She doesn’t feel his touch, she feels the crude touch of someone almost forgotten and it’s not Illidan she’s yelling at but there’s no way of explaining something she doesn’t fully realize herself. Her unfocused eyes try to scan for her belongings in the room. Illidan steps in front of her, his voice betraying his growing agony.

“Don’t leave like this. Talk to me.”

_“Get out of my way.”_ Her voice is icy and defensive with tank destroyers and arrows of steel.

“Oh. Well, have it your way then.” He lets his hands fall and something in Maiev shatters but she keeps it all inside her, numb yet aching. She finds her phone and wallet on the bedside table and stuffs them in her pockets. Illidan watches her, immobile and silent. When she’s yanking on her shoes with trembling, clumsy hands she sort of expects him to come and block her way out. Angrily readying a litany of accusations about the violation of her freedom and personal space and how that’s so despicably chauvinistic she straightens herself and grabs the door handle. 

Nothing happens and the sore pressure in her throat makes her gasp. No-one is grabbing her limbs, locking doors, calling her degrading names. Hesitating a second, maybe three, she concludes she can’t stay there begging for attention she would nonetheless shove off violently the moment it was given. It hurts so much and she knows it’s her own fucking fault.

_This is it, then?_

Maiev steps out of the hotel room and Illidan crumbles to pieces when the door clicks shut.

She doesn’t cry until two and a half hours later in her hotel cabin. The dam has broken and there was a raging ocean on the other side.

 

*****

 

Monday morning dawns overcast and damp. The band has agreed to visit the Stonehenge today even if it rained fiery rocks since it’s Anduin’s last day and also a vital part of his alibi. It’s still possible to fool the other uncle. Maybe. Sylvanas and her personal trainer are lying on her hotel bed satisfied and full smiles on.

“You know why we work together so well, little lion?” 

“Mmmm because you needed a masseur and -”

_“No.”_

“If it’s something to do with body bits I’m not answering.”

“Oh dear, you make me sound like a dirty old-” Then she sees his grin and tosses a pillow at his general direction hitting that lovely ass when he tries to dodge it on his way to the bathroom. This morning Anduin had pleased and delighted her by daring to be the one to take charge and she had surprised herself by trusting him instinctively and almost without old hesitations rising on the surface. It’s remarkable especially since Lyana’s reappearance has tarnished her present with ugly flashbacks from the past.

“It’s because you’re young and I have never really grown up. It sort of smoothes the age difference, or so I feel.” Her relaxed starfish position on the white sheets makes the boy chuckle.

“I can see that. You’re a teenager at heart.”

“Not so much at heart but emotionally, yeah. I mean, look at my chosen day job. But let’s not go there now, I’m feeling too happy to dwell on my weird life choices. Just saying, even if I will never recognize any Harry Potter references I don’t feel we’re too different… OK, OK, I give in. _It is the body bits._ So sue me.”

The pillow returns to the sender via airmail.

“I love you too.” He disappears into the shower and leaves the goth queen mouth and heart open. _So he heard it._ She sinks into the pillows her whole being singing. 

They have taught each other so much even if outsiders would think it a one-sided lesson; she’s had to learn about trust as much as he about sex. And now he seems to be teaching her about expressing emotions as well. 

Anduin has also grown _long-lasting_ in the course of their relationship. Eyes closed Sylvanas muses how he endured two of her very audibly evident climaxes this morning before letting himself come. The recent memory of the angelic young man, sheen of sweat on his skin, her blue-stone ring dangling from his neck while he intently watched her near her pleasure under him makes her purr again and consider joining him in the shower with a renewed agenda.

She also has the other agenda she wants to include her lover in. She had an answer from her real estate agent last night.

 

*****

 

”Look, I’m not saying you need to change completely. That would be ridiculous and a career suicide. We - you - already have a loyal, extensive enough fanbase despite the break and all that mess before. But could we just stop being the old cliché and — Alex, for crying out loud, don’t smoke indoors, please!”

”Is this dude for real?” Lead guitarist Alexandros Mograine, better known as Alex Migraine, rolls his eyes at the other Death Knights members and lets his cigarette ashes fall on the rehearsal space floor. Bolvar is glad it’s no-one’s home they are having the meeting in.

”Since you already hired me to lead you, yes I am. Now put out the cigarette and stop acting like a teenager. I get enough of that at home.” Bolvar sighs and tries to keep calm. The two guys from Northrend seem OK at least and it had been the Swede who had first contacted him about reviving the band. Many old groups seem to have made fairly successful comebacks recently - even that Sylvanas’ band - and Koltira had thought it a good time to try.

Mr. Fordragon had agreed to lead them if his terms were met. The strictest of them being _no drug use whatsoever_ or he’d walk out taking a lucrative compensation along with him. Alex thought the guy sounded more like a teacher or a coach than a metal singer but after one rehearsal even he had to admit the guy was - to use his teenage son’s expression - _totally lit_ behind the mic and could also imitate Arthas’ voice so well their old songs sounded like someone had just resurrected their old leader. 

Alex misses Arthas. The Blond Prince - as they had called him for his looks - had known how to have a helluva party anywhere he went but now it seems dry season has arrived in the form of this serious businessman.

The new drummer Koltira has found is from Finland. A long-time musician who has played in many more or less marginally known but good bands in the North. He doesn’t talk much unless drunk but he plays well and is never late for practice. 

”Tero ...Korhonen? I’ve no idea if I’m saying that correctly.”

”I am Teron Gorefiend. No other name is needed.” Bolvar tries not to laugh at the morose guy’s serious announcement. Some men in this business really seem to keep their youth, in the unchanged edgy attitudes if not in their looks. _That’s one way to balance it, I guess. Especially if you drink and smoke so much you look like a ghoul in your thirties._

”In case you were wondering I’m not going to invent any butcher themed name for myself. Hope that’s cool with you guys because that’s how it’s going to be.”

_Yeah, definitely a teacher. Of the most annoying sort._

The Finn giggles weirdly by himself reading their contract. 

”Karl-Erik _Elfström?”_

”What’s it to you, _Tero?”_ Koltira grins having guessed there would be some neighbourly rivalry between them. The public doesn’t know his real name but now he can’t be sure it doesn’t leak.

”No, no, it’s cool, just… you know… Elf. That’s so funny. Santa’s little helper.”

”Can we focus, kids? All I need is for you all to take this seriously and keep out of trouble. Start thinking of this as your daily job instead of some shortcut to sex and drugs. We play well together. This club gig might be small compared to what you had in your golden era but it’s work, it’s visibility and it’s right before Sethekk Fest so it’ll probably sell well. Think of it as a support position for the festival, even.”

”Take this seriously? You mean like the Saturday main act is doing? I just read Illidan thrashed a hotel room yesterday like the biggest walking rock cliché ever.” That makes Teron chuckle. Alex decides to ask the Finn for a beer later.

“Next he’ll be shoving fish into women and burning guitars on stage.” Everyone laughs but Bolvar. 

”We don’t need to follow his example.”

_”We don’t need to-”_ Alex repeats in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. ”God, you sound like a school teacher. Relax, man.”

”I _am_ a school teacher. Now shut up and do as I tell you and we all might gain. Moving on - what do you say if I told you it would be in your interests to sack your current manager?”

“And what the fuck’s wrong with Kel, then?”

“He seems a bit… unsteady. In his head, that is.”

“How wholesome you want us to become? Should we start playing gospel, would that suit you, _sir?”_

“I doubt any church would let you enter whatever you claimed to play.”

“Seems you haven’t done your homework, teach. I advise you read up on me before judging.” Alex kills the cigarette and walks out, ending the meeting.

 

*****

 

”I tried and tried but she won’t open or answer any texts. She sounded hungover and kinda scary.”

”Oh. Some weekend party then, eh? A shame, I think she said she had never seen the monoliths.”

”I’m trying so hard not to make the obvious joke here but -”

”Car’s ready, ladies.”

In her cabin Maiev hears them leave towards north and a monolith of no pleasant nature settles back over her heart. There’s a message for her in IG but she doesn’t have the courage to read it. What could she even say to Illidan? “Can you fire your manager because I have an issue with him?” No way. He wouldn’t. And then she’d have to explain it all and she doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want him to know about it. What if he hates the idea of someone he knows having touched her and doesn’t want anything to do with her anymore? Better to end the whole affair now than risk getting dumped.

_Right?_

On the journey towards the Stonehenge in northern Nagrand Sylvanas reveals Lyana’s messages to the present Banshees in the car.

“How do you know it’s her?”

“She mentioned Dan. Uhh, I _can’t_ see her! I don’t want to, it would only ruin any progress I’ve made. Even remembering her makes me want to disappear.”

“Cyn and I can deal with her if she really comes to the Fest, don’t you worry, luv. We can always ban her from entering.”

“You know she can seem all calm and nice and then you suddenly can’t find your valuables or your wardrobe is painted with blood. She still gets the royalties from her songs but I guess it’s not enough. Of course it’s not when her guardian pays her treatment with it. Not as fun as playing with needles. I don’t know why they have released her if she’s as chaotic as she sounds like in the texts.” Anduin holds her hand trying to exude love and strength into her but Sylvanas is back in her dark mood after their lovely morning.

“Maybe she has improved? Or, I don’t know, learned how to act better…”

“So Lyana was the guitarist? And the drummer died?” 

“Yeah, rookie. You have replaced a ghost.”

“What a nineties goth thing to say. Do you perhaps worship Cthulhu as well, ma’am?”

“I’ll show you my tentacles later.”

“Anyways, she sounded she wants in somehow and that’s ridiculous.”

“Sylvanas, I’ll handle her if she won’t listen to Kali. You’re safe. We’ll kick her out of the Fest when we see her. I can even contact her beforehand if you want it. You can’t be in this state of mind the whole week before the gig.” They all hear the concern and care in Nathan’s voice and Delaryn almost goes “aww” but Cyndia knows she would and nudges her in the tit. Kalira leans against his shoulder and purrs.

“I love it when you get all protective like that.”

“Not now, dear. I’m driving and we’ve got company”, he grins.

“I don’t mind, honest! You can give him - - _umpff.”_

“Oh, and she might still be harassing poor old Varok. I mean isn’t it in his rights not to see her? They weren’t married or anything. Uh, I sound like a heartless bitch don’t I, trying to isolate her from any of her acquaintances. Really, she must be lonely.” 

“Yeah. I hear you. But she’s not your responsibility. I won’t let her drown you, darling.” Kalira glances behind her and smiles to her oldest friend. What a blessing it is to have someone beside you through decades, tumultuous or otherwise.

“Hags! I demand a gathering. It’s been ages. When shall we three meet again?” Cyndia evokes their old phrase and all three original Banshees laugh. 

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Deal.”

“What, am I not welcome?” Delaryn feigns hurt.

“No, dear. It’s for old ladies only.”

The elemental monoliths are magnificent. There are not many groups besides them since it’s Monday and not yet school holidays. The early afternoon sun peeks between the clouds from time to time. Sylvanas takes a heckload of School Cultural Trip Pictures with Anduin’s phone, him and Delaryn in them since she’s closest to a student-looking person among their lot. 

“You can say I’m your bae if you want”, she winks at him. Both Cyndia and Sylvanas play a mock jealousy dance and grab their spouses in their arms dragging them away from the other. In the end they ask a passer-by to take group photos of the whole gang and Anduin moves them to a secret folder (he has several now, with varying degrees of security control).

The place feels magical, like the elements of nature were communicating through the human-made earth temple. The three couples feel exceptionally happy this day.

On their return in the evening they find Maiev passed out on her cabin porch.

 

 


	18. Snow on the River and Two by Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all swear a lot and have no sex whatsoever. Oops.

 

“You’re very quiet today. Trouble in paradise?” Taelia’s friendly teasing awakens Anduin from the depths of his thoughts. His hand is resting beside the plate, holding the fork with a piece of tofu pierced on it, forgotten. So much happened throughout the long weekend but the last few hours were a bit dramatic to say the least. When the Banshees’ guitarist was found looking lifeless in her Retreat cabin veranda he was the only one with decent first aid skills and he had automatically hurried to check her condition. Fortunately resuscitation wasn’t needed, she had a steady pulse, reeked horribly of cheap booze and was snoring like a beast. 

And then it was time for him to hurry to the airport. They decided to take a taxi with Sylvanas so if Maiev got worse Nathanos could drive her to the nearest hospital. 

While they were queuing to the check-in she had dropped the news, just like that.

He smiles warmly. “No, I’m fine, thank you. How about you?” Arator sits beside her; they have been inseparable since he braved to tell the girl about his feelings. Anduin is glad for them.

“We’re good, mate. Was your long weekend… uh, nevermind.” He glances at his dark-haired girlfriend and stuffs food in his mouth. They are having their lunch break at the institute diner. In the morning, before Tae had arrived, Anduin had given Sylvanas’ gift to Arator. He’d been speechless for a while and then settled back to his usual practical self, asking how on earth Anduin had gotten the replica medieval sword through customs.

“Look. I don’t mind if you tell her.”

“Thanks a lot! You think I have a choice now you’ve said that!”

“Tell me what?” The girl furrows her brows and glares at her blond bae.

“Oh, man.”

“It’s about my… girlfriend.” _My wonderful, beautiful, extremely hot lady friend who I’m madly in love with who just told me she’s selling her Kalimdor house._ His fingers touch the ring on the chain through his shirt.

“She doesn’t exist at all, does she? _Canadian,_ eh?”

“No, she’s real. She’s… a bit older than me.” He glances at his schoolmate who’s half buried in his palm but then he gets a despondent affirmative nod from him. “And she happens to be Arator’s aunt.” Anduin pretends to be interested in his food all of a sudden and waits through the icy silent moment until the girl bursts into laughter.

“You’re pulling my leg so hard it’s coming out the other end.” She looks at her boyfriend and stops.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“How is that even… what… WHAT.”

“They met by accident, she’s in a rock band, he went to her concert, bla bla bla. OK now it’s out, can we not talk about it ever again since I just lost my appetite and also my boner for the next week or so, thank you very much.” As much as he’d had to endure in these proceedings he doesn’t care anymore if he grosses out his friend by too much information of his own. 

“Oh, I’ll see to it that you don’t, hun. Anduin! You sly little cougar snatcher! That’s so hot. Do you have a picture of her? I mean other than the nudes, of course.”

“Tae!”

“Oh but I wanna know! This is exciting. And such a funny coincidence. I was about to tell you that my dad is also playing again. I think he has some kind of midlife crisis going on. He’s talking about reviving this metal band he used to hate.”

“Oh, that’s kinda cool. What does he play?” Arator likes the change of topic to just about anything away from his aunt being _handled_ by his classmate.

“Guitar. Not the lead, usually. And he’s a singer too. But his gigs have all been in the church or as a hire-out studio musician. This is kinda new.”

Something nags at the back of Anduin’s mind until he catches a thread. 

“Taelia, what was your last name again?”

 

****

 

“If you don’t fucking talk I’ll call Sira.” Delaryn is seething with rage-infused concern for her friend and is also very close to slapping her. “Or _Jarod!_ I swear I will. He’s not gonna like this.”

“Please, don’t. And don’t yell, my head’s fucking killing me.”

“Serves you right! Be glad we didn’t have to drag you to the hospital to get your stomach flushed.”

“I don’t care. Just let me sleep.”

“Oh, you so edgy I faint. Just tell us what the problem is. Please. We love you, you asshole.”

The three older Banshees stand around them but a step further, impressed by their young drummer’s fervor. She might not be the best person at handling other depressed people but at least she’s not giving up since she knows what it’s like. It needs to be taken seriously, if not this violently. There’s no answer from the pile of pillows.

“OK so something happened with Illidan, that I’m sure of and don’t you fucking dodge me this time. Did he hurt you? He’s a dead man if he did.”

The image of small, delicate Delaryn climbing on Illidan’s back like scaling a mountain with an axe in her hand pops into Maiev’s hangover-hurting brain and makes her snort.

“Look, it’s alive!” Del jeers.

“Fine. Yes. I was with Illidan. But he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What happened to you then? Why’d you have to chug a whole bottle of that crappy whiskey? I mean, if you have to go, at least pick something classy as your poison.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Maybe we should let her sleep it off?” Kalira suggests.

“She’s slept the whole night!” Delaryn had made sure there was no more alcohol inside Maiev’s cabin before tucking her into bed and camping beside her through the night. She had dozed off some but woke up several times to check that her friend was lying on her side and breathing. “And she should eat something soon. But first – she talks.”

 _“He knows Kael.”_ Maiev’s voice is weak but full of old contempt.

Delaryn curses with such venom no-one’s ever heard her like that before.

_“Fuck.”_

Behind them Sylvanas winces. “Please tell me you don’t mean Sunstrider.”

“The same fuckwad. You know him too?” 

“Ugh. This gets better and better. I thought he’d left the business or whatever, drowned on his own smugness. What is Illidan doing with him?”

“He’s their manager.” The hungover guitarist finally sits up and lets them see her swollen face, eyes red like tomato emojis in the Banshees’ chat. Her nose is still stuffy though she hasn’t cried today.

“Are they desperate or what? Kael’thas is such a wily little hustler everyone knew to avoid him except, well, us who needed to acquire ...certain commodities.”

“What did Illidan say, then?” Del asks.

“Nothing. I didn’t tell him. I just left.”

“Oh darling. You are doing it again.” She hugs the sagging pile of despair that is their guitar player. “You know he now probably thinks he did something wrong if you just up and dashed off.”

”But if he’s friends with – with – can’t you see, he cannot be trusted or _good_ if –” her voice falters and she swallows, losing any sensible grasp on words. Kalira steps in.

”No-one should be labelled a monster by association. You can’t know if he hates him too or has only hired him recently or when he was drunk or whatever. Or they only ever talk business and he has no idea about his real character. Men are sometimes like that.”

”Idiots?”

”Compartmentalizing.”

“Um. I hate to be the one to point this out but the recent hotel room damage he caused… I’m kinda seeing it in a new light now.” Cyndia searches for the gossip news from two days ago on her phone.

_“What?”_

“Yeah. How do you know Kael then?”

“He… we… uh. It’s a long story. We had a thing. When I was barely twenty. Can’t stand to see him ever again, is my point.”

“Did he mistreat you? Physically?” Sylvanas’ hands clench into fists for a passing second.

“No, it’s… well, kinda. Not really. He was just… Can we not talk about this now, please? It’s bad enough to admit I knew him.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s no shame. He was a real looker and could be charming if he wanted to. But I was so into Arthas then that his attempts at making a pass were useless. I wouldn’t even have noticed anything if he eventually hadn’t tried to blackmail me into his bed.”

“He did _that?_ What a douche.” Cyn finds the news about the hotel wreck and shows it to Maiev.

“Fucking hell.”

“You should call him.”

“I can’t. He probably hates me.”

“You barely know each other, hate is a bit too strong an emotion this early, eh?” Delaryn sits beside her on the bed and believes if she smiles hard enough it’d magically transmit onto the other’s face. Maiev glances at her briefly and there’s a flicker of something that makes Del shriek.

_“You had him!”_

“Shut up.” But she can’t suppress the creeping smile that pushes through her misery.

 _“Oh God oh God_ I ship you so hard! What was he like? Is he huge? He’s huge isn’t he?”

“Blue, you’re harassing the poor drunkard.”

“Sorry. You can tell me later. _Please_ tell me later. The _hags_ are going to have a secret coven meeting and we’re not invited so let’s have our own to spite them.” She sticks out her tongue at her redhead lover. “I’m going to be the first and only one to hear about the demon cock.”

“Del. When I get better I will kill you.”

“Love you too. Now, text him. Or whatever.”

“He’s sent me something but I haven’t read it.” The look in her eyes shifts back to the glassy unfocused haze. If there’s even one ugly word in his message she’ll shatter to pieces. Yet she feels she deserves her wounds to be ripped open.

“I will if you don’t.” 

 

****

 

”You’re a _Fordragon._ I swear, my life is a reality TV show.”

”What’s her name got to do with –” Arator stops abruptly, his eyes meet Anduin’s and then they proclaim in an almost perfect synch:

_”Death Knights.”_

Arator’s cracking deadpan just further proves they’re probably in a staged and screenwrit setup. It seems too comical to be real. 

”Yeah! That’s it. You two know them?”

”OK yeah this is getting weird. They are planning a comeback with your dad? Whoo boy. Aun— Sylvanas might not like this.”

”We’ve talked about it. I think she’ll… be fine.”

The look the young men exchange contains information Tae is not privy to but will eventually hear about against, on, and/or around pillows. Her chosen one nods to the other with respect.

”Alright, fine, cool, _don’t mind me._ Andy, show me a picture of her.”

After shuffling and browsing in ever-rising blush he settles for a photo of her laughing at the elemental monolith site - anything photographed while they have been alone either seems or explicitly is too intimate. He also finds several surprise pics Sylvanas has taken without his knowledge, some of them while he was sleeping in the nude. Some of them are selfies, the likes of which he would only ever see in questionable websites. There is also a video he had no prior knowledge of and is eager to go watch it somewhere private. He doesn’t let go of his mobile when he shows the picture to Tae.

”Oh my god, she is beautiful! Doesn’t look that old at all.”

”Have you met Arator’s mother?”

”Not yet.” She glances at the boy beside her with a lopsided grin.

”Well, they look very alike.”

”Should have realized perfect genes looking at this cutie.”

”Come on. Not in front of him!”

“You’re not that shy when we’re -”

“I’m not shy you daftie. I just want to keep some things private.”

Anduin finds himself smiling at the pair once again.

”You realize the family meetings will be a hoot now. We’ll all be together in them!”

“I… had not thought of that.”

“Same.”

“I have been too terrified of being introduced to her family or my uncles finding out about us that I completely forgot you, Arator.”

“Good to know I’m appreciated.”

“I’m sure she can make you forget the terrors once in a while.” Taelia’s voice drips teasing seduction and Anduin is immediately in on the joke. They look at each other fixedly.

“You are correct. A few times a day. Or night, as it happens.”

_“Hey!?”_

“And she probably just loooves those masseur’s hands of yours, doesn’t she?”

“I have soothed her aches and helped her relax a number of ways, indeed.”

“Oh God, stop it!”

“What’s her favourite… spot? I love it when Arator handles me from behind. You know, gluteus and that area.”

“She likes her lower back to be -”

“Bye.” Arator leaves the table and, giggling to her partner in crime, Taelia sets off after him.

“I know a way to soothe him, don’t you worry.”

 

****

 

 _Still no answer._  

Illidan gets up from the black silk sheets of his own bed that are all crumbled by his restless tossing and sighs deep trying to calm the ever-rising desperation. The dark rings under his eyes speak tomes of the two unslept nights. 

If he could just understand what had happened. Is the woman of his dreams really that unstable that she can flip from relaxed and open to panicky and cold in few seconds without a reason? _How can I be more careful if I don’t know what to avoid?_

The same loop of thoughts that’s been pestering him for two days goes around his tired mind as he trudges to the shower. The memory of her scent and husky voice make his heart and morning wood ache but he grits his teeth, ignores both body parts aggressively and washes himself fast.

Leaving for work he could have listed several more preferable sights to lay his eyes on than what - or who - he now finds on his front yard beside his car. He is not prepared for this.

”You can’t be serious.”

”Why won’t you let the Light back in? You never talk to me anymore.”

”This is not a good time, Xe’ra. In fact, there will _never_ be a good time for this harassment. I’m trying to ask nicely, but my patience is wearing really thin. Leave me in peace already.” He tosses his gym bag in the back seat of his car and attempts to open the driver’s door. The shiny-haired woman touches his tattooed arm like she believed to be in possession of magical powers. Illidan flinches away grimacing without pretence of politeness. His voice is a low, menacing growl now.

”Did you not hear what I said?”

”I saw that slut leaving your hotel. She’s not worth it. I know the real you. Why can’t you see how --”

The pure disgust and hatred on Illidan’s face makes her jump backwards. The huge, muscled man would scare anyone to a shivering bolt of fast legs but the small woman seems to be gifted with some special inner power, her conviction or her memories from their shared past granting her resilience to listen to his rage. 

”I’m going to say this once, and the next step is a restraining order from the police. Which one of us gets it is still pending. _Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone._ We are not friends, you and I. It ended years ago and you know it. If you ever stalk me again, if you dare approach or even talk about my woman I will rip you apart. Now get the fuck out of my lawn.”

He drives away at an angry speed leaving her trembling in an unusually unpleasant way for an Illidari fangirl. 

His phone resting on the front seat beside him beeps with a special tone that immediately calms his dangerously risen anxiety.

_Maiev. Finally._

 

****

 

“Ahh, coffee, my love, I have missed you so.”

“Indeed. This one espresso is my daily dose and no more.”

“That drama took my mojo away. She hid the whole affair under her usual sulk completely. I mean, we teased her about Illidan but I kinda thought it was one-sided fangirling or something.”

“Speaking of fans…” The two Banshees turn to their leader expectantly.

“Anduin was never our fan, not really.”

“Technicalities. You two really are happy together. And not just in bed.” Kalira isn’t asking. Sylvanas’ smile answers around her cute little espresso cup. 

“Yes. It’s frightening. I fall into the pothole every day but then he just… loves me and I’m cured. And he’s more mature than I am, in some ways. I just told him my childishness is the reason we get on so well.”

“I’d wager it’s his _mature bits_ that do the trick.” Cyndia bites into a croissant, grinning. The coffee shop they found nearby offers late brunches and it’s just perfect after the dramatic night and morning.

“I really lead myself into that one, didn’t I? Not commenting on the level of his _maturity_ but it is indeed adequate. What about you, colleague? Your girl is fierce! She’d make a suicidal sloth see hope in life. Mind if I borrow her to kick some sense into me now that Anduin’s away?”

“Yeah, she has a way of finding something positive in almost anything.”

“Well, she has to, being tossed about by an old Banshee. It doesn’t bother your relationship, you know, that it’s a _workplace romance?”_

“I’m as amazed as you are, but it doesn’t seem to. We’re equal. She chooses to let me lead.”

“I saw that. Nathan almost admitted he envied how easy you two made it look.” Kalira takes a long sip of her hot coffee and purrs at the taste.

“But then you snatched him. I have a feeling he had been ripe for you for some time. Did you ever shag, you know, before?”

“Oh, I wish. I mean, the young me really wished but no. Either he was so in love with Syl or just dense, I don’t know. And then all that mess happened. He told me he kind of saw my interest now, in hindsight. Did any of you keep in touch with him?”

“I did, we met a few times. We still had some business and debts to sort out after the fall. I don’t remember much though, I was still out of my head as you know and in the intensive phase of the therapy. He seemed to do just fine, but then he never was a junkie like some of us.”

“Nope, and I’m actually glad we found each other now. I don’t think we would have lasted if we had started dating younger. Or even in our thirties. Nate told me he wasn’t at his best in the years between the Banshees’ gigs - and I probably wouldn’t have been ready for settling down either until now. Somehow this was the right moment.” Kalira’s warm smile makes the other two band members go _aww._

“So you’re satisfied in his performance and all? I mean, when men get older...” Cyndia’s widening grin makes Kali slap her about the head.

“He did warn me about his managerial duties probably suffering so there’s that. Be ready to carry your own equipment and make some business calls on his behalf. I’m not sharing.” 

“Nonsense. I think he seemed livelier if anything. You know Del thought he was having a fling with Maiev.”

“No?!” They all laugh at the image of that dysfunctional pairing. 

“Let’s hope that Illidan proves to be a man with infinite patience. I don’t know Maiev too well but she seems a bit volatile.”

“Everyone has their baggage.” Sylvanas finishes her infuriatingly small coffee and fights the urge to buy another. “Oh, but just look at us. Middle-aged ladies finding the fairy tale fates.“

“Who would have thought, eh. Although _yours_ is a fairy tale and mine is more like two old farts finding solace in a cold world or something along those lines.”

“I refuse to use that definition. I don’t feel old. You don’t look old, neither of you.”

“But if you look at the twentysomethings nowadays…”

“I don’t mind if I do. She’s cute as hell. It just makes me feel more experienced, that’s all.”

“Hah!”

“So, which one of us is going to have the big society wedding?” They all burst into laughter again. 

“If I did, I’d wear a black gown. But yeah no. No weddings, please.”

“Oh yeah, nothing white, ever. I could see Del in a wedding dress though.”

“Wipe the drool, tigress. What if Anduin proposes, though? He seems the type.”

“I was coming to that.”

_“He has?!”_

“No, no. But I kinda did something almost as serious.” She squirms in her chair for a moment under their keen stares and then sighs. “I sold my overseas house. I still have the old apartment in Tirisfal and I’m using it as storage until I find a new one somewhere close by.”

“Wow, not fast at all. I’m glad though. I never liked you being far away in Durotar, you know.” Kalira hugs her tightly over the table. 

“So you’re moving in with him?”

“I don’t think so. But it feels like that, in a way. He has his own place there and I need my space, but we’ll probably end up staying at either of the two. And this way it’s safer, if...”

“If it doesn’t last.”

“Yeah.” But her face shows no signs of believing in that precaution being necessary.

“Talking about future plans, you reckon we should tour more after this? Nate seems to think it a good idea.”

“Let’s not get into that today, OK? We have the meeting tomorrow. Right now I want to hear more details about the band manager and his manoeuvres.”

“I need another coffee for this.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing special against Kael really, sorry for making him a douche here.


End file.
